


Friends in Need

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Depression, Episode: s02e22 Cogenitor, First Contact, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: Breathing in deeply, he tried to swallow the despair bunching painfully in his throat.Gritting his teeth, he planted his feet on the ground and pushed up. Wiping his face carefully on his sleeve, the Commander sniffed and cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly. He blinked several times and straightened.'Finish your shift, do your job and don’t…don’t let the Captain down anymore'Confined to the ship, isolated from his friends and doubting his place on Enterprise, Trip struggles to cope.Luckily, he has friends indeed.





	1. Vulcans don't

**Author's Note:**

> So this episode gave me lots of feelings. I've mostly stayed away from philosophical debates on the moral question of the episode, though I've slipped some in there, and I've focused on the effect of the events on everyone. 
> 
> Warning: depictions of depression and also bad language.

_It’s my fault, I’m responsible._

_You’re damned right you are._

The words echoed in his head, bounding and rebounding through his consciousness, louder and louder until it was roaring in his ears, drowning out even the sound of his harsh breathing. He staggered out of the turbo lift into an empty corridor, eyes slightly unfocused as blood flooded his head and the heat, the weight of it unbalanced him. Swallowing with difficulty, he forced himself to straighten and spotting a storage closet, slipped inside and shut the door behind him. Now out of sight, he whimpered as his legs buckled and he slid down to the floor. Fist wedged between his teeth, he clapped the other hand over his eyes and tried to breathe through the sobs. Tears squeezed out of his eyes and he sniffed hopelessly, biting down harder as some whimpers escaped him. The sharp pain of his teeth on his fist cut through the rising panic and desperately he focused on the feeling. It wasn’t much, he’d suffered worse wounds, but it was enough. He noticed the pain was more intense in the sensitive skin between the fingers, the skin straining under the sharp pressure of his front teeth. He found himself wondering how much pressure would it take to puncture the delicate protection. He let slip another sob before taking a deep breath, cringing at the sound. Finally, he felt calm enough to unhinge his jaw and let his hand fall down lifelessly into his lap. Breathing in deeply, ignoring the fluid drying uncomfortably on his face, he tried to swallow the despair bunching painfully in his throat. It didn’t work, it was still there.

He had to finish his shift. He couldn’t sit there forever. But he was so drained, he couldn’t even raise the energy to wipe his face, how could he possibly complete his shift? What the hell was he even doing here? In this closet? On Enterprise? In space? He didn’t belong here. He was just a jumped-up hick who liked to tinker with engines, good with a hyperspanner, no good at space travel. Fucking terrible apparently. And now the Captain knew it, Hell the whole crew had known it before. He’d heard the whispers, cocky crewmen who didn’t realise that the noise of the mess hall or sounds of the movie didn’t cover their snide remarks and crude speculation. The old joke: How did Lieutenant Fucker get his position? Even though his rank changed, the joke, the suspicion which had followed him since he’d joined Starfleet, remained the same. No one outside of the engineering teams he’d worked in could ever believe that he was anywhere near talented enough to rightfully earn his positions, his promotions, his place. Most of the crew liked him, he was an affable guy after all, but respect? No. It still bothered him, but he’d learned long ago to let the whispers go unchallenged, nothing he said or did would ever change their minds, only make things worse.

His team though, he thought that they might… No, he did know that they respected him. Hated him sometimes when he ran worp core breach drills in the middle of night or pushed them to work harder, quicker, smarter. But overall, they listened to his orders and suggestions, learning when he tried to teach them and seemed to be pleased to see him. Not bad leadership skills for a simple southerner.

Footsteps approached his hiding place and he froze, fear and shame electrifying his entire frame. The footsteps passed him and continued around the corner, fading as he listened. Gritting his teeth, he planted his feet on the ground and pushed up. Wiping his face carefully on his sleeve, the Commander sniffed and cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly. He blinked several times and strained his ears before exiting and straightening.

_Finish your shift, do your job and don’t…don’t let the Captain down anymore._

\----

Captain Archer re-read his report, trying his best to be objective and not sure if he was managing it. It had been two days since they’d received the news of the Cogenitor’s death and he had been agonising over it ever since. He knew that he had to send Starfleet his report sooner rather than later, but he could admit to himself that he was still…emotional, as T’Pol would put it.

“Come in.” T’Pol entered in that economical way she had of moving. He watched her in his peripheral vision as she assumed parade rest.

“I want you to read this before I send it to Starfleet.”  He handed the PADD over and stood up, starting to pace.

“Of course, Captain.” She began to read and he worked his jaw, impatient to know her response. He’d been up all night re-reading the thing and trying to amend it, but becoming too angry to be objective. Then he’d pace, calm down a bit and try another time, only to get angry all over again. What a mess! Finally, she looked up and said neutrally.

“Whilst I agree that the Commander should be disciplined for his actions, I do not believe that barring him from interacting with any alien species to this degree is necessary.”

“He needs to learn how to behave, how to not be so bloody reckless, so thoughtless!”

“Though I concur that the Commander can act without considering all logical options, he has proven adept at managing relations with different species on a number of occasions.” The Captain looked at her sharply and she elaborated, pondering the cause of the Captain’s strong reaction to this turn of events. “Commander Tucker successfully cooperated with a hostile Arconian, convinced the Kantaran to allow us to repair his ship and, from Lieutenant Reed’s account, persuaded the reluctant Denobulian scientists to leave the Xantoras cave system before it was destroyed.” They exchanged a long look, the Captain a little incredulous at her defence of the man with whom she was so often at odds. “Furthermore, it is not possible to learn without practice. In compromise, future interactions with other species could be supervised until he shows improvement.” He considered this, then said.

“Yes, that’d be better. But still, all that doesn’t take away the damage he has done.” She inclined her head.

“True.” She looked at him for a moment before continuing. “It is your prerogative to remove the Commander from diplomatic missions, however, if you no longer trust your Chief Engineer to perform his duties-”

“It’s not that, his work is flawless, we’d have never come this far without his work on the engines. I just-”

The door com went again and he cleared his throat, glancing at T’Pol meaningfully.

“Come in.” The door opened and Commander Tucker entered, hesitating slightly when he saw Sub-Commander T’Pol but quickly looking away and entering fully, the door closing behind him. “Commander, I’ve called you here to issue your reprimand.” Tucker’s expression didn’t change, though T’Pol saw something flicker in his eyes. In reply he lifted his chin, gaze somewhere above the Captain’s shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgment. The Captain began pacing again as he began neutrally. “First, you will be confined to the ship until further notice: no shore leave or away missions.” The Captain paused in his stride, “I assume Lieutenant Hess will be able to fill in where necessary.” Still not meeting the Captain’s eyes, the Commander replied hoarsely.

“Yes, I believe so, sir.” The Captain looked longer at the Commander, as if expecting a further response. No one moved for a long moment before he resumed pacing. “Second, you will not be permitted to interact with any non-member of this crew we encounter without supervision, namely by myself or another senior crewmember.” T’Pol continued to watch the Commander’s expression, noting that it did not change at all. He had been expecting this, or something similar, and either had no objections or had already accepted the terms he’d anticipated. However, there was an emotion underneath the blank acceptance, something under the surface which she wanted to discover. “Third, your external communications will be monitored temporarily-” at this the Commander shifted, finally looking at the Captain, mouth opening. Anticipating the question, the Captain raised a hand placatingly. “Not the content, we just want to make sure you don’t harass the Vissians anymore.” Both superior offices noticed the minute flinch across the Commander’s face at this and waited for his response. After a beat he nodded wordlessly, gaze returned to the far wall. The Captain glanced briefly at the Sub-Commander before he ventured. “Is that all clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Coming to a stop, the Captain hesitated briefly before he continued quietly.

“I also want to mention that the… situation, is not common knowledge on the ship, or on Earth for that matter. We would prefer if you didn’t speak about this to anyone outside of this room.”

“Understood sir.” Again there was a short pause. T’Pol could sense a low-level of concern underneath the Captain’s stern gaze, she too was disquieted by the Commander’s short replies. But then again, how else should he respond to such a dressing down? His responses now were perhaps the most appropriate she had witnessed him give in the years she’d known him. The Captain glanced at her briefly before clearing his throat and asking.

“Any questions?”

“No, sir.” Straightening, the Captain finally dismissed him. Nodding curtly to both of them, the Commander turned and left the room without another word. After he’d left, the Captain sagged a little, before glancing at T’Pol, clearly asking for her opinion.

“I did not anticipate that you would state your intentions so explicitly. I had assumed you would action the later points without informing him.” Looking like he was refraining himself from beginning to pace again, the Captain shook his head.

“You need to be firm with him sometimes, and very clear.” Muttering, he added under his breath, “Like with a child.” T’Pol did not indicate that she had heard this addition and continued.

“It was not a criticism Captain, in fact, it is the most logical approach. I was merely stating that I have observed the other method employed by other human leaders.” He seemed to consider this before blurting suddenly.

“I think he’s called me ‘sir’ just now more times than he has in the 10 years we’ve known each other.” Whilst T’Pol disagreed with the statement, as she had heard the Commander address the Captain as ‘sir’ many times, she had known the Captain long enough to infer that he was referring to the Commander’s brisk, professional tone and the absence of the affectionate ‘Cap’n’.

“You wish for him to show more professional behaviour; this seems to be a step in the right direction.” Her comment did not seem to reassure the Captain. He began pacing again. T’Pol wanted to return to her duties, but dutifully waited for the Captain to finish his musings, he seemed sometimes to need someone present with whom to discuss his thoughts.

“You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you?” She blinked.

“I monitor every crewmember’s performance-”

“You know what I mean,” he waved his hands slightly, “emotional wellbeing T’Pol.”

“You are a closer friend-”

“And also the Captain, I can’t…” He sighed, hands on his hips, before looking up at her. “Just, keep an eye on him, okay?” Uncomfortable, but unable to think of anything else to counter this emotional request, she acquiesced.

“Alright. If there is nothing else?” He shook his head absently and she left quickly.

 

\---

Lieutenant Hess rapped the side of the panel in front of her boss’s work station. Her superior looked up from the console and nodded for her to approach, a small smile pulling at his lips at the old joke about his lack of official office.

“I have those readings you asked for.”

“Thanks.” He took the PADD and scanned through the readings. “Anything odd?”

“Not that I could tell, the variation is perhaps a bit higher than normal, but nothing alarming.” He glanced up and said playfully.

“Well, that’s what we want to hear.” As he read on, Hess perched on the edge of the desk, shifting some of the tools scattered hapharzardly around. “Mind the careful balance, Lieutenant.” Tucker teased gently, his eyes not lifting from the PADD. Snorting inelegantly, Hess crossed her arms as her gaze wandered around the small space casually. It looked the same as usual. She watched her boss from the corner of her eye as he continued to read.

There was something off about him. It wasn’t obvious. In fact, only a few people in the engineering team had noticed: herself, Ensign Carter and Crewman Rostov. Apart from maybe the Captain, given how close the two were, she doubted anyone else had seen it too. Both crewmembers had come to her separately, making causal enquiries as to the Commander’s well-being, not having noticed changes in his behaviour exactly, just…having a funny feeling. She herself had noticed something off since he’d returned from the Captain’s ready room a few days ago. His eyes had been slightly red and he’d barely glanced at the daily reports before retreating to his desk to tinker with something. He’d asked her to check on all the engine readings and look for anomalies or potential problems, a task he usually liked to perform himself. At her questioning glance, he’d said in a weird tone that she needed to start learning the ropes. If that were all, she would have dismissed it. But then Rosotov and Carter had mentioned something, and now, after returning from the Captain’s ready room for the second time in two days, she could see he was holding himself stiffly, a deliberate air of calm about him. She considered his tense frame, openly staring now despite the fact she knew that he would notice her assessing gaze.

Sure enough, he finished reading and looked up, eyebrow raised.

“How are you, boss?”

Commander Tucker was well-liked in Engineering, firm but fair and always willing to help out or answer questions. Work hard and work smart and he would reward you with extra support, advice and excellent performance reviews. Tucker had a knack for seeing people’s strengths and weaknesses, both in their abilities related to work, and in their personalities. Often he assigned people tasks they were not naturally adept at, in order for them to improve through practice, never losing patience with their mistakes, only snapping at carelessness. He also saw when people clashed and either mediated or created an atmosphere inductive to cooperation. The Engineering team quickly figured out that he was always watching them, always up to date on what was going on with them professionally and personally. It was annoying most of the time, as there was little room to hide or relax when he was on duty – and even when he was off duty, he had this way of discovering if someone had slacked any. But each member of the team knew that in the end, this intense scrutiny allowed the Commander to catch and deal with any problems early on as well as push them further than they thought they could go. In Tucker’s mind, there was no reason why any one of them couldn’t become a Chief Engineer on a starship someday.

When Crewwoman Henkel had accidentally let slip her crush on the Commander during a team gathering over some drinks, the team had quickly taken bets on how he’d react when he found out. By that time the Commander had earned their respect as a leader and engineer, but the rumours surrounding his promotion and stories of his conquests played strongly in most of their predictions. A whole week bets were taken and everyone watched with undue interest whenever the pair crossed paths. The Commander had obviously sensed something was up, but couldn’t figure out what it was, much to the amusement of the team. Stepping in before someone got hurt, Hess had taken Trip aside and given him a hint. Just enough of a suggestion for him to work it out by himself and figure out how to handle it. The next shift, he’d assigned Henkel and Hess to rewire conduits on B deck. Halfway through their task, he’d visited and given a Hess a look. She’d smirked and taken a long lunch. When she returned, both Henkel and the Commander were laughing at something and he left them then, winking at Hess on his way out. By Crewwoman Henkel’s account that evening, over a bottle of wine with the other female crewmembers, he’d been kind and had gently teased her. But he strongly recommended she look outside of Engineering for a partner, as he wouldn’t tolerate any mooning near his precious engines. According to Henkel he even had suggestions. The whole team were quoting ‘Honey if I were you, I would jump Ensign Jenkins first chance I got’ for weeks afterwards. That was the thing about the Chief Engineer, he struck the right balance between authority figure and approachable guardian. Though whenever this was brought up, he always cited Hess for being his ears and his team for keeping him on his toes.

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired is all.” Now that he mentioned it, there was a slight bruising under his eyes, just noticeable underneath the lights. There was also a tension in his shoulders he carried when something was bothering him. But before she could poke anymore, he looked up. “Now, I was meaning to tell you, the Captain wants you to take on some more responsibilities, test your skills in the wild.” He was smiling, but the tension in his frame didn’t dissipate. “Next encounter with a busted alien engine,” he stood and handed her back the PADD, “you’ll be up to bat.” Hess was suddenly caught between being pleased by this and noticing a bandage over his knuckles. Dismissing the injury as something work-related, she focused on the news. A little nervous at the thought of the pressure of performing she ventured uncharacteristically doubtfully.

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Of course!” His smile gentled and his frame finally relaxed, his usual warmth shining through suddenly. He patted her on the arm and said firmly. “You’re more than ready Anna, it’s your time to shine.” She grinned and mock-saluted.

“Thanks.” He patted her again and then wandered off to talk to Ensign Davies. But as she watched the pair, she could see the tension returning to his shoulders.

\---

Over the next few days, T’Pol was true to her word and monitored Tucker closely, from a distance. If she had not known about the incident, she would not have noticed anything amiss. From across crowded rooms or through monitor feeds, she observed him interact with the rest of the crew and complete his routines as usual. Apart from a noticeable lack of personal contact with the Captain, he still completed his shifts, conversed with others, ate in the mess hall, worked out in the gym and returned to his quarters. From what she could gather, none of the crew knew exactly what had occurred. The communication staff knew that a message had been received by the Vissians and the bridge crew had heard the muffled shouts of the Captain informing Commander Tucker, but the details of either event did not seem to be common knowledge. She knew that more pieces would fall into place when the terms of Tucker’s reprimand would be actioned, but didn’t believe the true version of events would be guessed and accepted as truth by the majority of the crew.

“Sub-commander, will you join us?” T’Pol turned to look at the speaker. Commander Tucker was sitting with Ensign Sato in the mess hall, both of them looking at her expectantly. Surprisingly, it had been the Commander who had spoken. Wanting to refuse and sit alone, T’Pol remembered the Captain’s request that she interact more with the crew, as well as his other more recent request. So she thanked them and sat down.

“Hoshi was just telling me about this new frequency Starfleet is testing.” From there they passed a pleasant time discussing the known frequencies, their usual purposes and the merits of each. Ensign Sato had some interesting insights through her work during their mission and the Commander offered enough comments to prove that he was knowledgeable about the subject. Throughout the conversation, T’Pol kept up her surreptitious surveillance of the Commander. She could see nothing changed in his demeanour and mannerisms, from Ensign Sato she also saw no difference, perhaps the Ensign was a little more cheerful than usual, but nothing significant. When she finished eating, Ensign Sato smiled and left to resume her shift. As soon as they were alone, Tucker said casually.

“You know, you’ll have an easier time watching me from up close.” Apart from the minute stiffening of his shoulders, as if in anticipation of a physical blow, and a shadow of something in his eyes, there was nothing evidently amiss about him. Her first instinct was to deny her actions, but she had learned that the Commander was difficult to fool or distract, especially when he had uncovered a truth. Any denial from her would prove wasted, so she instead took a sip of her tea.

“This is indeed more comfortable.” He barked a laugh, not relaxing, but portraying the charade of humour. To anyone observing them, the Commander was finding something she’d said amusing, whether at her expense or not would be up to the assumption of the observer. Whilst T’Pol had seen for herself the Commander’s brilliance when it came to engines and technical issues, she had not seen until now this emotional intelligence. Well, that was not strictly true. There were several occasions, now that she reflected seriously, in which the Commander had correctly read someone’s emotions and defused tense situations or brought comfort where needed. Not only with other humans, but as she had told the Captain, he had proven his ability to negotiate and successfully interact with other species. Perhaps it had been his irrational prejudice against Vulcans when they had first met, or his intense emotions, which had camouflaged his better qualities.

It suddenly occurred to her that whilst the Commander had many friends among the crew and back on Earth, he was forbidden from discussing the situation with any of them. With the Captain reluctant to talk about it, that left only herself. Although she had no desire to talk in circles over the issue, she knew that humans often found relief in the practice and from the Commander’s observation that she was watching him closely, it was obvious that he expected her to mention it.

“Do you wish to discuss it?” As still as a statue, he stared at her unblinking for a long interval, before looking down at his PADD on the table.

“No thank you, Sub-commander.” His polite refusal only encouraged her. In the past, the Commander had only used her title ironically, in times of anger and argument. It was obvious now that he was hiding his true emotions and she knew enough of human psychology to recognise that behaviour was ultimately damaging.

“From my observations of human behaviour I have extrapolated that talking through upsetting-” He interrupted her, making eye contact, now visibly irritated.

“There isn’t anything to talk through. I…”  He faltered slightly, anger shifting swiftly into regret. “I made a terrible mistake. There’s nothing I can do to fix it, make it better.” He put down his fork, head drooping, and finished quietly. “I just have to live with it.”

“It is my understanding that the practice of discussing such an event aids understanding and-” Agitation was showing clearly underneath his forced calm as he interrupted again.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” There was a beat of silence as she merely observed him. He sighed and looked up again, the emotions on his face tangled and hard to decipher. “I appreciate the offer but…I can’t imagine, talking about this with anyone, let alone a Vulcan.” Divining that he would only interrupt her further should she try to speak, she continued to watch him in silence and was rewarded as he went on quietly. “Vulcan’s don’t make mistakes, isn’t that what you told me?” Bitterness peaked through the mask and he looked down again, picking up his PADD and pretending to read it. She found to her dismay that his emotional responses were inducing a strong amount of pity from her. The Commander’s actions did indeed warrant a firm reprimand and caution in the future, but seeing the breadth of his negative feelings unsettled her, made her wish that she could do more, could have prevented it in the first place. But no, that can’t be right, Vulcan’s don’t wish.

“I know what it’s like to be responsible for another’s death.” He froze, then slowly put down his PADD and looked at her in surprise. Greatly uncomfortable, she took a sip of her tea and looked down. It had been a calculated risk. Despite his loud demeanour, the Commander could be trusted to be discreet. More importantly, it seemed he needed to analyse his emotions and reactions to the responsibility of causing another’s death and she had first-hand knowledge of that experience. There were a number of logical reasons for the disclosure, but that did not stop her breathing from picking up as she considered his possible reactions. She could feel his eyes still focused on her face but he said nothing for a long moment. When he did, his voice was soft, gentle.

“There wasn’t anything you could have done.” Startled by this statement, she countered quietly.

“You do not possess any of the facts surrounding the-” He interrupted her again, his eyes locked onto hers, lips curving slightly upwards.

“I don’t need to, I know you.” An intense warmth flooded her chest. It was illogical, she should consider his declaration empty, she should not be affected by it in this way. She was suddenly reminded of a previous conversation.

“People sometimes change.” His smile deepened sadly.

“Vulcan’s don’t.” Pleased that he remembered and warmed by his almost blind faith in her character, she couldn’t find a reply before he gathered his PADD and tray, nodded to her and left. As much as she wanted to, she could not offer him the same comfort. Perhaps the most generous thing she could say was that the Commander had not intended to cause any harm. The fact remained that he had inflicted irreparable damage through his ill-considered actions. The only positive aspect of this outcome would be if he absorbed the lessons of this situation. Whilst this had yet to be tested, she was sure from his behaviour that he would successfully implement what he had learned. Somehow, she knew that the Commander would not be comforted by this observation.


	2. A Time For Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cracks start to show and someone else learns the secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over." Octvaia Butler

Malcolm was tapping his leg impatiently. Only another five minutes left to his shift on the bridge, then he could slip in a quick session in the gym before hitting the hay. He greatly disliked the beta shift, it was halfway between a normal day shift and a night shift, so in the beginning of it people from alpha shift were still wandering around finishing off things, skipping around the corridors to do various leisure activities and generally being loud and annoying. Then when everyone else went to bed it was too quiet and things got very boring. Most of the crew were on alpha shift at any one time so most of the things happening in the ship, happened then. The other two shifts were just to make sure every system was being monitored at all times. He generally used beta or gamma shift to tinker with the various weapons, plan upgrades or design new tactical strategies. This shift he’d been drafting a new level of security protocol, one specifically for when they’d been boarded by hostiles. But as soon as the chronometer changed to 24:00, he jumped up from his station, nodding to the staff from the gamma shift on his way out. The corridors were all empty this late so he didn’t see anyone on his way to his quarters. He changed quickly then marched to the gym, towel slung over his shoulder and bottle of water in his hand.

Entering the gym, he paused. To his surprise, there was already someone in there. Commander Tucker was on the treadmill in the far corner, running at a moderate pace. Strange, he thought the Commander was currently on alpha shift, this was a late night for him. On the other hand, the engineer was well-known for working overtime, so it was plausible that he’d put in a few more hours and was having his evening work-out later than usual.

“Evening.” Malcolm called as he crossed to the mats for his pre-work out stretch. There was no response. He dumped his towel and bottle of water down, glancing over at Trip. The amount of sweat on his face and soaked into his T-shirt made it look like he’d been running for hours. Pulling one arm across his chest, Malcolm waited for another moment before trying again. “Trip?” His friend didn’t even glance his way, just kept running. Deciding that Trip was just lost in his ‘zone’, Malcolm finished stretching and then went over to the bikes, back to the treadmills. He started on his usual routine, an uphill-downhill session that increased in difficulty the longer it went on. The minutes slipped away as he focused on his breathing and pushing through the tough sections of the routine.  He was about half way through when suddenly there was a smacking sound from behind him. Twisting in the saddle, he saw that he and Trip were still the only ones in there. Trip had stopped running, his feet on the foot rails. He was bent over slightly, panting as the treadmill kept going. He had obviously stumbled and jumped off the running belt to avoid falling.

“You alright?” Malcolm called and caught sight of Trip startling at the sound of his voice, before he turned back to the bike again, entering in the cool down sequence early, he’d done long enough anyway.

“Yeah, fine!” Came the hoarse reply, followed by beeps from the treadmill under the heavy breathing and grunts. Neither spoke as Malcolm finished his cool down and walked over to where the other man was sitting. Slumping down beside him, Malcolm took a long gulp of water. He glanced at Trip, who was wiping his face with a gym towel, hand shaking slightly.

“Long session?” Malcolm ventured. Trip nodded wearily, still panting. He busied himself opening his bottle of water and Malcolm felt his concern growing.

Despite the slightly rocky start to their relationship, the Lieutenant had grown to hold the Commander in high esteem. They still bickered like an old-married couple sometimes but ever since they’d worked together on the weapons in the face of the faceless enemy that had almost crippled Enterprise and then their bonding time in the cold, cold coffin of Shuttlepod One, there had been a strong bond of mutual trust and respect between them. Captain Archer had once said to him jokingly that once you’d won the loyalty of a Tucker, you could never shake them off and Reed had discovered to his secret delight that he didn’t want to. Before his friendship with Trip, Reed had mostly stuck with his security team - with the exception of Travis, who he’d known through training – keeping to a very strict superior-subordinate relationship. Although he had been warming up to the rest of the crew, as he’d disclosed to Trip on Shuttlepod One, it had been a slow process. If Malcolm Reed was a steady glacier, slow to thaw, well, Trip Tucker was like a plasma torch, melting all resistance and infusing heat, whether anger or love, wherever he went. With Trip by his side, Malcolm had noticed more social doorways opening to him, so to speak. It caused a subtle change in how people saw him, as if they saw the Commander being friendly with him and decided that he was more approachable because of it. He’d also found a fierce defender in the engineer.

Early on in their new friendship, they’d been eating in the Mess Hall, himself, Trip, Hoshi and Travis, when Malcolm had heard his name coming from another table, followed by an unflattering comment. He froze for a second, noticing that his friends had looked up at the speaker and the speaker’s friends, who were now snickering, loudly. He was more embarrassed that the comment had been heard by his new friends than affected by the comment itself. He had been overhearing similar things ever since he’d been young after all. After a moment of silence at their table, Trip had calmly wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. Half-wondering what the Commander would do and half-certain it would be even more embarrassing, Lieutenant Reed started to try and stop him. In response the Commander smiled at him and walked over to the offending table. 

“Ensign Carter, having a nice lunch?” The entire table jumped slightly, obviously not expecting the second officer to start talking to them. Ensign Carter began to blush, nodding mutely at his question, quickly realising his intention and really, being part of the Engineering team, she should have known better than to expect to get away with anything in her superior’s hearing. “I don’t believe I know your friends.” He looked down at them expectantly and reluctantly, they introduced themselves and he smiled benignly at them. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he indicated behind him and Reed looked down at his plate hurriedly, keenly aware that other people in the mess hall were beginning to watch the Commander’s performance, “me and some of the other officers were just discussing Sub-Commander T’Pol’s performance reviewing process.” Everyone at the offending table looked at each other worriedly as he continued, his tone light and friendly, putting a hand on the back of one of their chairs. “You know she’s not just including job performance, productivity, punctuality, but social aspects as well, relationships with other crew members, general conduct, respect for senior officers...” His meaning was as pointed as a phaser beam even as he chuckled slightly. “I mean I know as a Vulcan you’d think she wouldn’t know too much about human social practices, but she’s been with among humans for a while now, so I don’t think she’ll need any help with her assessments.” He leaned in slightly, tone conspiratorial. “Though me and the Captain will be happy to fill her in if she needs us to.” He paused, looking down at the mute table, before smiling at them again as if they all really were just having a friendly conversation. “Anyway, I’ll let y’all get on with your lunch, see you later Ensign.” Then he turned and re-joined his table without a word, replacing his serviette on his knee and returning to his meal. After a long moment, Travis cleared his throat and asked.

“So, what’s the movie this week?” As the mess hall slowly returned to normal, Malcolm considered how skilfully the Commander had indirectly dressed down the gossipers. He had informed them that their comment had been heard and that it would not be tolerated whilst keeping his warning light-toned and conversational. If anyone had only heard his end of the exchange, they would not have realised what was really happening. As it was, he’d embarrassed the group enough so they would likely not repeat the offence, but had not created an atmosphere of accusation and oppression which could lead to a backlash or resentment among the crew. Most important to Malcolm though, was that Trip had shown support for him in front of the crew. That meant a lot. Sure enough, as the offending table broke up, Ensign Carter approached Malcolm and said shyly.

“Sorry for interrupting Lieutenant, I just wanted to thank you for detaching that mine, we owe you our lives.” He was taken aback, realising that was the first time that anyone outside of his team or senior staff had thanked him.

“Well, that was mostly the Captain. Anyway, I’m just doing my job, Ensign, but thank you.” At his humble words her expression of guilt deepened and she insisted.

“And from the whole Engineering team, we’re all so glad you’re alright.” Her smile turned mischievous as she glanced at her boss and continued. “We don’t know what the Commander would do without you to keep him in check.” Trip huffed a laugh and said mock-sternly.

“Alright Carter, don’t you have a shift to finish?” She nodded at them both and then skipped off. “Terrors, every one of them.” Trip laughed again, unable to hide the fondness for his team in his tone. Later, as they were leaving the mess hall, Malcolm stopped Trip.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” Knowing that this was Trip’s way of letting him save face and shamelessly taking it, he merely replied.

“Just thanks.” He received a brilliant smile in return.

In the gym, after Trip took a drink and closed the bottle again, Malcolm cleared his throat. “You sure you’re alright?” His friend sighed and shot him a small, tired smile.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I…” he glanced down at his watch in surprise, “woah, I…I musta lost track of time.” His lips twitched higher, the smile looking a little sickly now as he stood unsteadily. Malcolm stood too, officially worried.

“Well, time for bed I think.” Trip nodded and the two of them left the gym together. Looking at the Commander out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm tried to get him talking, dig for clues as to what was going on in that head.

“Ensign Jenkins thinks he saw a M-class planet in the next system. No signs of ships or satellites in the area but it’s early days yet.” Far from the boyish enthusiasm which Malcolm expected from this announcement, Trip grunted and didn’t comment. Suddenly feeling jittery despite his tiredness and anxious to get more of a response, Malcolm continued. “It’s been a while since we’ve been planet-side, hope we get the chance soon.” Trip did not comment that Malcolm rarely, if ever, expressed a desire to leave the ship or failed to mention security concerns when encountering a new planet or species. But he did say distractedly.

“Yeah, it’s been awhile.” Well, that seemed like the most Malcolm could hope for that evening. They reached their quarters on B deck and before Malcolm could say anything, Trip spoke first. “Night.” Then he quickly slipped into his room. Resolving to follow up with whatever was bothering his friend the next day, the armoury officer retired for the night.

\----

Captain Archer yawned behind his hand, blinking to try and focus on the report on the PADD in front of him. Last night had been a late one, Porthos hadn’t settled for a long time, pacing despite Archer’s multiple attempts to get him to sleep. To add to that, breakfast had been a disappointing affair, eating alone in the Captain’s mess. T’Pol had informed him that she was on beta shift that day so would use the morning to meditate, and Archer hadn’t invited Tucker, for obvious reasons. He’d considered asking another crewmember, but by the time he’d thought of it, the alpha shift was about to start and he didn’t want the embarrassment of inviting someone who had already eaten or who would need to leave almost immediately.

In the end, he’d informed the kitchen it would just be him and settled down by himself, trying to remember the last time he’d eaten breakfast alone. Lunches and dinners were more likely to be eaten in his quarters, depending on his schedule, but since the ship had launched, he couldn’t remember a breakfast not taken in his mess in the company of someone else, baring emergency situations when it was skipped altogether. He told himself it was refreshing to have a little peace and quiet during the meal and studiously did not look at the empty chair to his right. After the steward had cleared the table, the Captain had wandered slowly up to the bridge, smiling benignly at crewmembers he passed and suppressing yawns.

The door com sounded and he sat up, squaring his shoulders and putting on his polite, competent Captain face, calling the visitor in. Commander Tucker entered, looking as tired as Archer felt.

“The daily Engineering report, sir.” Tucker handed over the PADD, then stood back in parade rest. “Nothing unusual to report, gamma shift fixed the comm. system glitch and everything else was quiet.” Feeling his whole body tense, the Captain looked down at the report. Tucker had talked him through the reports whenever something was wrong enough times that he didn’t really grasp the finer details of the different readings and charts, but he knew enough to see that everything was normal. He kept on looking down at it anyway, eyeing the Commander out of the corner of his eye, desperately trying to think of something to say. There was so much in his head, so much he wanted to say, but there was a wall between them that he had no idea how to penetrate. Eventually, he managed:

“Late night?” Tucker’s eyes flickered to his for a micro-second before darting away again and he replied shortly.

“Long session in the gym.” Weakly, Archer nodded and handed the PADD back. The Commander nodded in return and then stood perfectly still, waiting to be dismissed.

“Get an early one tonight Commander.” Another quick glance and then Tucker nodded, voice still stiff.

“Yes, sir.” Holding back a sigh, the Captain stood and began awkwardly.

“We’ve detected an M-class planet in the next system. Initial scans of the area show no signs of warp-capable species nearby. Could be a good opportunity for some shore leave for those who missed out on Risa, and for the science teams to collect some samples, take scans…” He trailed off, not sure how to phrase his next sentence. Luckily, Tucker knew what he was trying to say and put him out of his misery.

“Sounds good, sir. If you don’t mind, I’ve been meaning to run some overdue tests of all systems on the ship, I might need to close down some sections to reboot complete power lines safely.” He swallowed, his entire frame stiff. “Perfect time to do it.” Stamping down on the guilt lurking in his belly, Archer nodded. He was glad that Tucker had understood his intention to keep the terms of his reprimand as secret as possible. Not much got past the crew of Enterprise, the less attention they could draw to the situation, the less speculation and questions they’d raise. The Captain knew deep down it was naïve to believe that they could get through this without anyone noticing anything, but he could hope.

Biting back another sigh, he summoned the other senior officers to the bridge. Without a word, Tucker opened the door and stepped back to allow the Captain to leave first, face impassive. They walked to the situation room and waited in silence until T’Pol and Malcolm arrived. They all greeted each other, the Captain noting that Trip had relaxed slightly, smiling at Malcolm who smiled back and looked assessingly at his superior for a long moment before turning to Archer expectantly. Without wasting any time, the Captain repeated what he’d told Tucker before asking T’Pol and Malcolm to organise their respective teams whilst he sorted out who in the crew was entitled shore leave. Trip grinned at T’Pol.

“Maybe there’ll be some pretty rocks for the guys in geology to look at.” Archer couldn’t help but tense at Tucker’s divergence from the script before the Commander turned to him and said causally. “With your permission sir, I’d like to run a complete assessment of all systems. Sounds like a good time to do it, with less people on board.” It was done so naturally, so Trip-like, that Archer was almost taken aback, feeling like he was in an alternative universe where nothing was wrong. Quickly he managed to force a smile and nod.

“Permission granted.” He turned to the others, Malcolm was looking puzzled but managing to keep from staring at Trip and T’Pol didn’t look surprised. Not wanting to linger, he dismissed them and went to sort out the planet-side rota.

\---

Humming to himself, Doctor Phlox mixed some paste, pausing to taste it to ensure he’d gotten the balance correct. He considered, then added some more Anglan spores to be sure. He was in a good mood that morning as he’d heard that they were coming up on an M-class planet and was eagerly anticipating the flora and fauna they might discover there and their possible properties. The door to sickbay swished open and Sub-Commander T’Pol stalked in followed by some members of the science teams.

“Ah, Sub-Commander, crewmen, is this about the new planet?” T’Pol inclined her head.

“Yes, doctor.” She addressed the crewmen behind her. “Collect the equipment on the list and start loading up the shuttlepods.” They began working and the Sub-Commander passed a PADD to Ensign Cutler. “Ensign, please oversee the transfer.” As the Ensign nodded, T’Pol turned sharply to Phlox. “Doctor, if I might have a word?” Curious at her confidential tone, the doctor agreed and led her to his backroom. As soon as the door shut, T’Pol stated blandly.

“I am concerned for Commander Tucker’s mental health.” Doctor Phlox started at that, surprise tangling with the beginnings of amusement as his mind raced to decipher that statement. He knew that the pair clashed on a regular basis due to their diametrically opposed ‘philosophies’ as it were. But he did not expect T’Pol to question the Commander’s mental stability. So whilst he briefly entertained the possibility that she was reacting in an extreme manner to some offence against logic the Commander had recently committed, he dismissed it quickly and decided the best thing to do was not to assume.

“Why is that?” There was a small pause before the Sub-Commander breathed in and said shortly.

“I ask that you do not disclose what I am about to tell you to anyone. The Captain wishes for this information to remain confidential, but I believe you will be able to keep this secret and help Commander Tucker.” A sense of foreboding clawed its way through him as he agreed instantly.

“Very well, I promise not to repeat anything you tell me to anyone.” Nodding, she continued.

“Last week we received a transmission that the Vissian Cogenitor had committed suicide. I believe that Commander Tucker is struggling with guilt over the incident, though he refuses to speak about the matter with me.” Phlox sighed and perched on his high stool, bowing his head slightly in a brief sign of respect for the dead Vissian.

“How terrible. And of course he blames himself. Poor Commander Tucker, no wonder he’ll need help.” He looked up, mind ticking over, remembering his most recent interactions with the man. “When did he find out?”

“Five days ago.” That couldn’t be true, his voice raised in pitch incredulously.

“Why, I saw him just yesterday in the mess hall, he seemed…” He trailed off as he replayed the memory. “Well, in hindsight…Perhaps he was not as animated as usual. But otherwise he was not visibly affected by such tragic news.”

“Indeed. I myself have observed very little change in the Commander’s behaviour in the public spaces of the ship since he was informed.” With a begrudging respect, she conceded. “He is evidently more skilled in emotional control than I previously thought.”

“I’ll say.” Another thread of concern started to trail through the doctor’s mind at this revelation. What other trauma could the Commander conceal so effectively? He made a mental note to monitor the Commander more closely, especially after traumatic events. There were a few crewmembers he’d noted were more susceptible to stress or adverse emotional reactions to life-threatening situations, either through their previous medical records or through direct observation. He’d never have thought he’d ever add the ever resilient engineer to that list.

“In any case Doctor, the Captain has decided to keep this information between him, myself and the Commander. Of course Starfleet and the High Council will be informed of the basic facts, but none of the rest of the crew are to be privy to this information.” Phlox considered, whilst this would prevent the Commander from becoming the source of gossip and speculation among the crew, the secretiveness would add to the shame the Commander was most likely experiencing.

“I see.”

“Luckily the Vissians are not seeking any kind of restorative action from Commander Tucker or Enterprise. In the interest of suppressing knowledge of the incident there will likely be no official disciplinary action from Starfleet, but the Captain issued an unofficial reprimand with some terms to prevent another similar incident from occurring.”

“Which are?” At her look, he huffed. “If I am to help the Commander, I must know the full details of the incident, different aspects could affect him in different ways.” Reluctantly agreeing with this logic, T’Pol repeated them. Whilst Phlox baulked at the last term, he did not comment.

“In any case, as the Captain does not seem likely to broach the subject with the Commander, I was hoping that you might be able to persuade him to talk.”

“Of course. I doubt it will be easy, but I will endeavour to help him in any way I can.”

“Your help might not even be needed, I must say that the Commander has demonstrated more than adequate remorse and understanding of the error of his actions. He may recover from the emotional strain on his own.”

“Wait a moment. You believe that the Commander is responsible for the Cogenitor’s suicide?” She didn’t hesitate in the face of his incredulous tone, stating blandly.

“It is the logical conclusion.” He stood up from the stool, his voice quiet but harsh.

“The decision to end one’s life rests only with the victim, others can contribute to the circumstances or reasons for that decision, but not to the decision itself.”

“If the Commander had never associated with the Cogenitor, it would never have taken its own life. He agrees with my assessment.”

“You told him that?” Anger suddenly blazed through his stomach and he snapped. “Firstly, accusing someone of being the cause of any loss of life is an extreme action with long-lasting consequences on anyone’s psyche. Secondly, you cannot know that you ‘assessment’ is correct. Yes, the Commander helped the poor thing realise its enslavement, but he did not make the decision for it to commit suicide. It could have decided to continue living as it was or it could have realised it’s situation on its own and made the same choice independently.”

“Doctor-”

“No, I analysed the Cogentior’s intelligence, it was just as mentally capable as the male and female Vissians, it is perfectly credible that it could have discovered its situation by itself without Commander Tucker’s help.” T’Pol waited for him to take a breath and then continued calmly.

“The fact remains the Commander did contribute to its decision to commit suicide. The question of what could have happened had he not interfered does not matter. He did interfere and there were fatal consequences.” Eyeing her, he calmed his breathing and said bitterly.

“And if I hadn’t analysed the Cogenitor’s intelligence, or had lied about it, the Commander would have not attempted to liberate it.”

“You could not have known-”

“Actually T’Pol I did know.” He sighed heavily. “I knew why Commander Tucker requested me to analyse the scans he’d taken. I knew what he would do with that information. I even knew that his efforts would be in vain as it was extremely unlikely that he would be able to free that poor creature. I almost tried to convince him against it and yet I didn’t.” He looked down guilty and finished quietly. “Part of me hoped he would succeed.” T’Pol narrowed her eyes ever so slightly.

“You willingly aided in this interference into another culture?” He looked back at her sharply.

“Come now T’Pol, you cannot say that this is simply a cultural question. The very fact that the Cogenitor had the mental capacity to decide to end its own life, shows that it, and the rest of the gender, are being oppressed by the dominant genders. They are reproductive slaves and whilst it was naïve of the Commander to believe that he, or Enterprise for that matter, were in a position to help, it was a nobly intended.” If the Vulcan was frustrated by the argument, she did not show it. Merely continuing unblinkingly.

“You are judging the Vissians by Denobulan standards, as the Commander judged them from human standards.”

“If the results of the scans had been different I would agree with you.” She did not respond, eyeing him for a long moment. Before he could go on, a crash from the main room behind interrupted. She glanced over at the door before stating briskly.

“We do not have the time to argue this point further. In any case, our own opinions on the situation do not matter. All that concerns me now is the wellbeing of Commander Tucker. He may not need any aid to recover from this emotional trauma, but in case he does...” Silently agreeing to let the matter drop, Doctor Phlox sighed and nodded.

“I will help the Commander any way I can.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I just fear that he won’t accept it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to believe that no Vissian Coogenitor had ever rebelled against the system. My own head-canon is that the Vissians just cover up those incidents to keep everyone ignorant and complacent about the status quo. I feel like this incident would be no different. The couple might be angry, but the Vissian higher ups would prefer to pretend it had never happened.  
> Also, the show never deals with the impact of the incident with Starfleet or the Vulcans. My guess is that they would be informed of the basics – it’d be impractical to cover it up – but again would try to limit knowledge of it out of embarrassment. So they wouldn’t be able to officially punish him without drawing attention, but needless, I doubt Trip would in anyone’s good books.
> 
> Anyway, that's all of the moral pondering I'll do in this fic. If it's not obvious, Phlox here pretty much sums up my view on the situation. I interpret Phlox in the episode as being wise to the fact that they couldn't realistically help the Cogenitor but still troubled by something he knew was wrong. I just wish someone had been in Trip's corner. Even if in hindsight his belief that it would be easy for the Cogenitor to be freed does come across as very naive, his actions are so true to one of his best attributes as a character. If he sees someone in trouble, he tries to help them and he isn't cowed by obstacles like stupid arguments. 'It's part of their culture'. In my view that's never a veritable justification for abusing someone's rights, it's just an excuse to wash your hands of the responsibility for helping.  
> I'm just saying that if teaching someone to read and helping them choose a name ultimately causes them to commit suicide, there's something more than 'culture' going on, T'Pol.
> 
> Okay, rant over. The rest of the fic will just be about the characters and how they all react.


	3. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness." Euripedes

The soft beeping and low murmurs of the crew didn’t help with her persisting boredom. Ensign Sato held back a sigh, aware that she was still on duty, even if she was resenting it. She tried to tell herself that she’d had the best time on Risa and there was nothing down there on this empty planet at all interesting for her. No civilisation meant no new language to study and although reports were coming back that it was a beautiful place, it wasn’t like she’d never seen a pretty mountain range before. She’d lived in Brazil after all. Still, it was no fun being on shift knowing that other people were having fun, doing something interesting. So her spirits were raised when she noticed a glitch in the comm system. She ran a few diagnostics but they were inconclusive. It seemed to be the same problem which had cropped up the day before. Engineering had said they’d fixed it but evidently not. Still, she’d take it over a boring shift any day.

“Bridge to Engineering.”

“Tucker here.”

“That glitch in the comm system is back.”

“I’ll be up in a sec.” Satisfied that the Chief Engineer’s presence would alleviate some of her boredom, Hoshi sat happily for the few minutes it took him to arrive. The turbolift opened and he strolled out, small toolkit in hand. He nodded in greeting.

“Same place?” She nodded and he crossed over to the panel to the side of her console, opening it up with a few turns of the screwdriver and looking inside. She moved her seat to the side to give him more room, looking down at the swell of his shoulder and biceps as he lifted his arms to work on the circuitry. Whilst she thought of him as a big brother, she couldn’t deny that he was also a handsome man. It never hurt anyone to look once and a while. She knew for a fact that most of the women and a few of the men on board agreed with her on that point.

“My guys said they’d fixed this last night.” He said quietly, mostly to himself. But not passing up the opportunity for conversation, she said.

“Must have been a temporary fix.” He grunted in acknowledgement, shifting on his knees to get closer to the panel. Letting him work, she let her gaze wander around the Bridge. There was only a skeleton crew, four people on shift including her, mostly monitoring systems, even though it was alpha shift. One or two were glancing up to watch the Commander work, also bored and looking for distraction. She exchanged understanding smiles with some of them, before pretending to study the readings on her console. After a few minutes, she gave up and went back to watching him. She considered why he wasn’t complaining about not getting to go planet-side. He was always eager to explore even uninhabited worlds, breathe fresh air, ‘stretch his legs’ as he’d say. Instead he was here fixing a seemingly minor issue. Sensing her gaze on him, he paused in his work and glanced over.

“What? Something on my face?”

“Oh nothing.” He raised a disbelieving eyebrow and put down his tool. Hoshi relented, saying in a low tone. “Well, I thought you’d send someone else to look into this. It’s only a small problem.” He nodded in understanding and returned back to his tinkering.

“Oh, well, most of my team have permission to go planetside, they’re down there now.” His eyes didn’t leave the panel as he went on casually. “Plus, I like giving the Bridge’s systems,” he glanced up at her then, light mischief in his eyes, “a personal touch.” Smirking slightly, still aware that they were on the bridge and there had already been speculation about the two of them, Ensign Sato huffed and returned to monitoring nothing. Then again, there had been speculation about the Commander and every woman he looked at. The whole crew were terrible gossips and would imagine whole love stories out of people glancing at each other in the corridors.

For a long few minutes, she listened to the beeping, murmuring and the new noises of Commander Tucker fiddling with the comm system. She thought back to the Ensign’s party soon after Enterprise's launch.

After all the fuss with the Klingon had finished and the crew had settled down again, the Ensigns had commandeered some wine and beer from the galley and set up in the mess hall one evening. They’d chatted and mingled with crewmembers from other departments, a meet-and-greet for those of the Ensign rank. It was a great opportunity especially as there hadn’t been time for an official gathering before the launch and not all of them had been through training together.

It didn’t take long for them to start gossiping about the senior officers. Hoshi had found herself agreeing with the general consensus in the room. Most of the Ensigns approved of the Captain, he’d made an impression on enough of the crew to generate good will. There were those amongst them who didn’t like him overly much, but no outright hatred. Hoshi agreed, she’d met him several times before the launch and liked him. She’d found him authoritative but also genial and a good conversationalist.

Sub Commander T’Pol, on the other hand, garnered a more mixed response. Some of them were found her arrogant and didn’t like her at all. More were split between awe of her race, respect for her resolve in sticking with a human crew but also a general distrust for Vulcans and dislike of her condescending manner. Hoshi had fallen into second group, admitting she had good, admirable qualities but ultimately feeling irritated by the constant air of judgement.

She didn’t, however, know what to think about the Chief Engineer. He was a bit of a mixed bag. Loose and easy but obviously competent and highly knowledgeable about the engines. Most of the Ensigns agreed that he was nice enough and it was probably good to have an easy-going Second Officer if the First Officer was a Vulcan. Then Hoshi had overhead the rumours. Ensign Bailey, of the science team, raised his voice obnoxiously as he argued with Ensign Carter. Hoshi remembered the distinct smarminess in his voice as he brayed.

“I can’t believe you haven’t heard of Commander Fucker’s magic fingers! Everyone knows how he earned his position. How else would a yank like that get to second officer of the first Warp 5 starship?” Carter’s face reddened as she said angrily.

“Don’t talk about him like that!”

“Oh Carter, don’t tell me you fell for that ‘Southerner charm’” he mimed airquotes a little awkwardly as he had a bottle of beer in one hand, “it’s a ruse so he can score impressionable-” Luckily Ensign Davidson, a sensible man from comms, cut in.

“Come on Bailey, don’t be an idiot, Starfleet Command aren’t morons, they hire the best. Commander Tucker was on Captain Jefferies team, you know, the team that build the Warp 5 Engine. He obviously knows his stuff.” Bailey scoffed, slurring slightly as he rebutted.

“Everyone knows Jefferies is gay and Tucker’s a good-looking man, you do the math.” Davidson shook his head and herded Bailey away to sober him up before he really got out of hand. It wouldn’t do for anyone to be reprimanded for being drunk and disorderly so soon into their mission, especially if they were shooting their mouth off about a senior officer. Most of the group seemed to dismiss Bailey’s more outlandish claims, but the group of women Hoshi had fallen in with started chatting about how they could get into his pants, about his sexuality and if they even stood a chance. One of them even suggested that his friendship with Archer was a cover-up for a 10-year long love affair. Hoshi hadn’t known what to think, she had seen the sparkle in his eye when he winked at people, and he did seem a bit young to be Chief Engineer of a starship. It was entirely plausible, as someone was saying, that Jefferies himself had been offered the position originally but Archer had lobbied for his friend and so the more experienced engineer had been usurped by a member of his own team.

Later, after the Commander had talked her through a mild panic attack she’d had in one of the shuttlepods when they’d experienced heavy turbulence, she’d felt guilty for having even giving any credence to the rumours. As she’d grown to know him, she’d found many things she admired about him. His genius with all things technical always astounded her. How he could seemingly glance at a bunch of cables and circuitry and know how fix it, or take some parts and put together something amazing in no time at all. He was also very funny. Sometimes his humour was what her mother would describe as ‘childish’, and not everyone laughed with him, but she found that she often did and he included her, not think anything of joking with subordinates.

But most of all, what she liked about him was that he was so intuitive and so thoughtful. Not many people knew that about him. But she’d noticed that he could read how someone was feeling and respond accordingly. Or maybe it was just her. Maybe she was just easy to read. Even if that was true, he always made the effort to comfort her when she was upset, encourage her when she was uncertain, laugh with her when she was feeling mischievous. Sometimes he didn’t get it quite right, she’d heard complaints from Engineering crew that sometimes the Commander tried to give them advice they really did not want. But the point was that he noticed and cared enough to try.

It was important to feel like you had people in your corner, especially when travelling in such a hostile and stressful environment. It was one of the reasons she really liked the fact that Trip and the Captain were old friends. Most of the crew seemed to like seeing their in-jokes and wry smiles, hearing about their shared history together. Good relations at the top trickled down to a general good-feeling among the crew and contributed to the collaborative atmosphere of the ship. If the Captain was the crew’s father, the Commander was the fun-loving uncle. Hoshi smirked, she had thought in her more uncharitable moments that T’Pol was the disapproving Grandma.

“Are you going down in the next batch?” Even though he’d visited Risa and there wasn’t any technology to study on the planet, the Commander was Second Officer and the Captain’s best friend, he could go planet-side if he really wanted to. And usually he did really want to. He tensed slightly at her question, before relaxing and putting on a smile. If she hadn’t been watching him closely, she would have missed the moment of tension and she never would have suspected that the smile was fake. But now she was unsure.

“Nah, I’m doing some system tests. Long overdue.” She must not have looked convinced because he sighed, lips flattening, hand coming up to massage his forehead. “Alright, I’m a bit tired. Could do with some peace and quiet.” She couldn’t help herself, gasping.

“You? Peace and quiet.” Though he laughed with her, she could see a stiffness in his shoulders, a certain awkwardness she rarely saw in him. He shrugged and his lips quirked up a little as he gathered up his tools.

“I think that should be it. Try it now.” With a start, she realised that she’d…offended him? No, that couldn’t be right. They’d teased each other before with no hard feelings. It was the main factor that contributed to the sibling-like relationship they had. But now it did seem like there was something bothering him. Pushing down her racing thoughts, she tried the system again and couldn’t see the glitch. She told him and he nodded. “I’ll monitor it from Engineering as well, but it shouldn’t be back.” Disappointed he was leaving so soon, especially since she felt off-balance from the faux-pas she didn’t understand, she grasped for something to say.

“Even if it isn’t, it’ll be something else next!” He huffed a laugh, standing up. The Bridge was hardly a place to talk about personal matters so she settled for: “They still playing a movie tonight?”

“Uh, I think so. Not sure.” Now that definitely wasn’t like him. Sure, if he’d been swamped with work that lack of knowledge would be normal but in such quiet times, he should be fully informed and actively encouraging crew participation in social events. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him in the Mess Hall at lunch. Everyone took lunch at different times, depending on duties or habit, but she, Travis, Malcolm and Trip usually ended up at least glimpsing each other. Travis and Malcolm were busy with the trips down to the planet but if the Commander hadn’t been involved and was only running system diagnostics, it was strange that she hadn’t seen him. She hoped that he hadn’t worked straight through lunch. Now a little concerned along with her curiosity, she just smiled encouragingly as she watched him leave.

What could be bothering him? There didn’t seem to be any work-related problems, in Engineering or outside, so it had to be something personal. She pondered this, she hadn’t noticed any tension between him and anyone else. Although…now she thought about it, she had seen him leave the ready room the other day looking a bit stiff. Come to think of it, the Captain had seemed a bit grim that day as well. Maybe there was something going on that she wasn’t privy to. She couldn’t imagine that Trip and Captain Archer were fighting over something personal. They had disagreements sometimes, but they were either reasoned professional differences of opinion on what course of action to take, or good-natured bickering. She tried a different avenue: maybe it wasn’t anything to do with anyone on Enterprise, maybe it was something happening back on Earth. She wondered if he’d received bad news from home, Trip had talked about his family enough for her to know how important they were to him. Worrying that something terrible had happened, she was halfway to checking the mail records before she stopped herself. That was a bit too far, seeing who had sent him messages. She was concerned yes, but that didn’t give her the right to snoop into anyone’s personal business, let alone her superior officers’ business. She forced herself to give up pondering the problem for now and try to get more information later at dinner.

Turning back to her work station she held back another sigh, just three more hours to go.

\---

The planet was beautiful. Malcolm breathed in deeply, the air was cool and crisp and he could smell a pleasant earthy aroma on the breeze. They had landed the shuttlepod in a large valley where the various science teams had split off with a security escort per team. Once the teams had completed their analysis of the surrounding area, the first of the shore-leavers would get to visit and enjoy their time. Under the watch of Lieutenant Reed’s team of course. After the many, many escapades on away missions, the Captain had finally consented to the Security Officer’s recommendations for security. No groups of less than three, each accompanied by one security personnel who was armed. No one would get lost or end up in trouble any more, the Lieutenant vowed to himself. Not even his scrappy friend the Chief Engineer. Looking down on the landing site from a large hill he’d climbed, Malcolm smirked to himself. Who was he kidding? That man could find trouble in a Police station.

He found himself frowning. What was the engineer doing running boring tests when he could be exploring this new, luscious landscape? It was if he didn’t want to. Chewing over the puzzle in his mind, Malcolm thought back to the previous night in the gym. Trip’s exhaustion to the point of confusion and evasiveness now coupled with his disinterest in exploring a new planet painted a worrying picture. He decided to corner the engineer as soon as he was back on the ship. This called for some investigation.

\----

Lieutenant Hess nibbled on a peach as she finished reading a trashy novel in the mess hall. She’d had dinner with some of her friends from other departments, but they’d left to continue their shift whereas she was still enjoying her time off. Whilst the planet hadn’t interested her that much, she’d taken a turn down on the surface, enjoying the sun on her face and wind in her hair. It was definitely refreshing after months spent in the grey and sterile atmosphere of the ship. She looked up when she heard Phlox’s trilling voice cut through the low hum of conversations.

“Commander! Will you join me?” Jerking his head around, her boss spotted Phlox waving at him from his table and smiled awkwardly.

“Actually Doc, I was just grabbing a coffee. Gotta get back and complete these tests I’m running.”

“Nonsense, surely nothing now is so urgent that you can’t find time to eat a full meal.” The engineer opened his mouth to protest further but at the doctor’s stern look, sighed and nodded. He grabbed a dish off the pass, filled a cup of coffee and joined the doctor. Hess smirked, lucky the doc was no pushover and was more than capable of wrangling the workaholics in the crew. She couldn’t hear their conversation over the low murmuring of the mess hall, but she watched in some amusement as she imagined Phlox’s usual frank and uninhibited chatter versus her boss’ exasperated, and often embarrassed, replies. But as she watched, her worry returned. He still looked tired, even from where she was sitting. There was no reason for him to be pulling double shifts, but Ensign Carter had told her that she’d seen him working overtime the day before and he’d been in Engineering early this morning when Hess had dropped something off. She knew that he was running those big tests on the systems, but there really shouldn’t be any rush to complete them. Not able to talk with him, having been on the planet during the day, she thought she’d make time to speak to him the next day, catch up. See if she couldn’t discern what was up with him.

From what she could see of the odd pair across the mess hall, it seemed like the Doctor might have the same goal. She could recognise her boss’ shifty ‘I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-this’ look anywhere. His posture had been slumped in fatigue, then straightened into something approaching causal, but then he tensed up and started frowning, obviously irritated. They could have been saying any number of things, but she guessed in all likelihood it was about him not sleeping and eating properly. She silently cheered the Doctor on, hoping he could get through to the Commander.

Then Ensign Sato entered the mess hall and smiled at the pair. Phlox leant back and seemed to stop whatever he was saying, her boss not looking at the doctor as she collected a tray and joined them. Now thoroughly interested, Hess lowered her PADD and watched them out of the corner of her eye. The dynamic had changed with Sato’s presence. Obviously the Doctor had dropped whatever he had been trying earlier and it seemed he and Sato were making small-talk. Trip’s expression had lost some of its sullenness, but he still wasn’t completely relaxed, eating his dinner mechanically and not contributing much to the conversation. At one point Sato turned to Tucker and said something. He flashed her a small, reassuring smile that would have worked had it not been on such an exhausted face. Even without hearing their words, Hess could tell that the Ensign was asking if he was alright and he was trying to convince her that he was, in fact, fine _. Just tired is all_. The amount of times, she’d heard him say that lately…

Finally, the Commander finished his meal and rose, the others at the table evidently trying to get him to stay but he shook his head firmly and made to leave. The door opened and Lieutenant Reed stepped in.

“Trip! I was looking for you,” he paused, realising that the Commander was on his way out “ah, have you eaten already?” Hess couldn’t hear her boss’ response as he stepped around the Lieutenant and left the room, but judging by the concerned gaze that followed him, it hadn’t been very reassuring. Reed spotted Phlox and Sato at the table and walked over, obviously with the intention of discussing the engineer. Seeing them collaborate, Hess rose and joined them, deciding that reinforcements didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Well it wouldn’t do to…” Phlox trailed off when he saw her, but she pre-empted any distraction he could come up by starting.

“You guys talking about how weird the boss has been lately?” The others looked at each other before nodding. She sat down and Phlox started.

“Well, I wouldn’t describe his behaviour as ‘weird’, but yes, we were.” Reed turned to her, leaning forward.

“Are there any problems in Engineering that might be on his mind?” Hess considered but shook her head.

“Not that I can think of.” Trying not to feel like she was betraying her boss, she went on. “I noticed he was a bit off after coming back from the Captain’s Ready Room a few days ago,” she looked at Reed, “any command or security things you higher ups aren’t telling us?” He frowned.

“If there were, I wouldn’t be able to say. But no, as it happens, nothing that I know of.” Ensign Sato piped up.

“There hasn’t been anything from Starfleet on the channels…” She trailed off and bit her lip. Reed narrowed his eyes at the sight and prompted her.

“What is it?”

“Well,” she looked around her and then leaned in, “I thought that maybe he’d received some bad news from home.” Reed considered this and nodded thoughtfully.

“I suppose. He does have a lot of family.” Hess suddenly remembered.

“That’s right, he mentioned that someone was ill. Oh, who was it?” She wracked her brain, angry at herself for forgetting. “It was a few weeks ago…I don’t think it was a close relative, but his sister was really worried I think. She’d been going into hospital to visit them.” She looked around the group. “Maybe something happened?” They all exchanged looks, Reed started.

“We could check the logs-” Doctor Phlox interrupted sharply.

“No, that is an invasion of privacy, and would ultimately do more harm than good.” They all conceded reluctantly and dropped the idea. The Doctor continued. “In a way, it doesn’t matter what is bothering the Commander, the best thing we can do is to simply be available for him to confide in if he wishes.” The group nodded, subdued. Sato murmured.

“That’s true.” Reed snorted softly.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath. But I suppose you’re right, we can’t force him to say anything.” He looked around at everyone, catching their eye as he said. “As long as we show we’re there for him, whatever it is, that will have to be enough.” Hess still felt troubled, and noticed that everyone else did too, especially the Doctor. Briefly, she wondered whether there was any medical reason behind her boss’ strangeness lately. But then she considered that if so, then the doctor would know and wouldn’t have been speculating with the rest of them. Still not happy, but satisfied they at least had a plan of action, Hess said her goodbyes and rose to leave. Reed caught her as she turned, saying simply.

“Keep an eye on him?” She smiled and nodded.

“Always, sir.”

\----

Travis whistled to himself as he made his way to the sweet spot. He had been piloting shuttlepods to and from the surface for most of the day and was glad to be off shift and have time to relax. Although he loved flying, performing the same landing and docking routines several times a day was not what he loved about it. Let him do some fancy manoeuvres with an NX-class starship and then you’d be talking! He’d had a quick dinner and now wanted an hour of two of reading before bed. He tucked his PADD under his arm and climbed the ladder, twisting the hatch release and opening it. As the clang of the hatch faded, he heard a light sound from above and looked up. Commander Tucker was already there, sitting on the ceiling and looking down at him.

“Oh hey Commander, didn’t mean to disturb you there.” As he picked up his PADD with the intention of leaving, Tucker got up himself and called down hoarsely.

“It’s fine Travis, I was just leaving.” Although it was impossible to read his expression from the distance, including the upside down factor, Travis could hear the strained tone. Deciding to ignore it, he climbed fully out of the hatch.

“You don’t have to leave on my account.” He pushed off and went on as the Commander remained standing. “You’d only make me feel bad.” By the time he turned himself around to land on the ceiling, he could see exactly why Trip was reluctant to stay there. His was standing with his hands on his hips in seeming exasperation, but his eyes were red and he looked tired. Travis realised retroactively that the noise he’d heard earlier had been a sniff. Quickly, to avoid spooking the man even more, he held up his PADD and settled down. “You won’t even know I’m here.” Then he crossed his legs and started reading. There was a long moment in which Trip didn’t move until finally, Travis’ technique paid off and he slowly sat back down again. Growing up on a freighter, folks practically lived on top of each other, so walking in on someone in a private moment was common place. In the boomer’s experience, using as much discretion as possible and not prying was the best way to handle such awkward encounters. Feeling his superior’s eyes on him, he forced himself not to look up, instead trying to read.

He considered his inadvertent discovery. Out of everyone on board, one wouldn't think that Commander Tucker would be prone to tears - sad scenes at movie night not withstanding. But Travis had learnt, through unfortunate experience, that people's public faces and private ones were often very different. His father had radiated an air of quiet authority and control, but Travis and the rest of the family had been privy to moments of fear and doubt peeking through the Captain's persona. So in all, seeing Trip like this didn't overly surprise him. He liked the Commander, he was fun and didn't look down on the rest of the crew. He just hoped that Trip would be able to talk to someone about whatever it was that was upsetting him. The tension in the air hadn’t dissipated through the long silence, so Travis said quietly, eyes still on the PADD.

“If you want to talk about whatever it is, I’m here. But you don’t have to.” He looked up and saw that whilst calm, Trip’s eyes were shining. “Sometimes, things just get to us. It happens to everyone.” Trip looked away, expression still neutral, but it was obvious to Travis that it was a mask. “I’m kind of glad actually.” That earned him a new expression: a light frown.

“What? Good to know that the senior officers aren’t machines?” Ignoring the bitterness infused in the remark, Travis kept his tone causal.

“Something like that. We had a saying on the Horizon: ‘People that don’t cry are fake, dead or Vulcans.’.” That surprised the Commander into a genuine laugh.

“Ain’t that the truth?” He was quiet a moment before he looked over at Travis, saying mock-seriously. “When did you get so wise?” Glad that Trip’s humour was reappearing, the helmsman grinned.

“We boomers are always fonts of wisdom.” Beginning to sense some of the familiar warmth that seemed to radiate off Trip, Travis felt better. Their engineer was still there. They kept a companionable silence for a while, before Trip said quietly, gratefully.

“Thanks Travis.”

“For you? Anytime.” The smile he won was small, but he counted it as a victory anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote the last bit because I needed something nice and Travis is one cool dude.


	4. Unravelling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for iffy science!

_They won’t let me climb mountains!_

Throat straining around a silent scream, Commander Tucker awoke with a jerk. He lay there panting, slowly registering his pounding heart and sweat-drenched sheets and sleep-clothes. Goddammit. He slapped the bedside light on, stiffly got up and got a glass of water from the bathroom sink. Avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, he took some long gulps, put the glass down and grabbed the edge of the sink. His knuckles whitened as he concentrated on breathing slowly.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Feeling calmer, he finished the glass and left the bathroom. He was relieved that he hadn’t had to resort to more drastic measures in order to claw out of the swamping panic that had threatened to engulf him. Not wanting to think about those times, or attempt sleep again so soon, he sat at his desk and opened up the draft of his letter to his sister.

 

_Dear Lizzie,_

_That’s great about Aunt Julie! Everyone must be so relieved, do send her my best. I can’t believe I’m missing the Annual Tucker ‘Tuck-in’ Barbeque, have an extra steak for me, won’t ya?_

_Things have been kind of quiet out here lately, mostly stars and empty planets. I’m getting lots of admin done! Here’s some snaps from Crewman Fogg’s birthday, see if you can spot who’s had a bit too much of Chef’s mystery punch!_

_As always, despite myself, I miss you._

_Take care,_

_Trip_

Re-reading it, Trip snorted. That was pitiful. She’d know something was up, for sure. He might not be a novelist, but he always made an effort to be as detailed and interesting as possible when writing letters home. If there were no new planets or species or adventures, he’d talk about the crew and the latest gossip. But try as he might, he couldn’t find the strength to think of anything to add. He sent letters regularly, so when he didn’t send anything that meant that something exciting or dangerous was happening. Obviously wrong short letter vs no letter at all? He sat staring at the monitor in his room for a long time. _Tucker, make your mind up_. Were simple decisions beyond him now? _Pathetic, look at what you’ve become_. Then he remembered that his communication was being monitored. It would be noted if he didn’t send anything. Noted, analysed, discussed, judged. Gritting his teeth, he sent the file and got back into bed. He’d make up for it in the next one.

\-----

Suddenly, it was two weeks since the message had come from the Vissians. Realising that he hadn’t invited his Second Officer to breakfast in that time Captain Archer bit the bullet and asked him, as casually as he could. He tried not to feel guilty at the wary expression his invitation caused on his chief engineer’s face and was relieved when he accepted. Whilst the meal was perhaps not the most awkward time he’d had in the Captain’s Mess, the one-sided conversation with the Vulcan Captain Vanik was still hard to beat, it didn’t exactly signal things going back to normal either.

They discussed possible interesting things to explore the scanners had picked up, T’Pol explaining with each suggestion how Vulcans had already learnt everything there was to know about it. Archer had even managed to share a small smirk with Tucker over their Science Officer’s lack of enthusiasm. He tried not to feel too happy over that. Even more, Tucker made an effort in conversation and had even made some jokes. He told a funny story about one of the crewmen in his team who had somehow glued his hand to a hydrospanner and had meandered around Engineering amusing everyone with his whining until someone gave in and found him some solution to dissolve the glue. For a few seconds, it was like old times, T’Pol had even raised an eyebrow in response. But then T’Pol had excused herself and the Commander had instantly stood to join her, obviously not wanting to be left alone with his old friend. Hiding his hurt, Jon had waved them both away before staying a while, letting his eggs go cold.

\---

The day got worse as they picked up a distress signal. It was a Tellarite freighter with engine trouble. Archer chickened out of going down to Engineering himself, comming them from the Bridge instead. As he related the situation to Commander Tucker, he prayed that no one on shift would notice any of the tension he felt etched into his skin and that his Chief Engineer would remember the terms. He needn’t have worried; Tucker’s response was prompt and natural.

“Cap’n, remember you wanted to test Lieutenant Hess’ skills in the field? This looks like a perfect opportunity.” Heart beating a little faster at the familiar nickname, the Captain smiled bashfully, hoping he wasn’t over doing it as he responded.

“Ah yes! I did! Well then, tell Hess to meet Lieutenant Reed at airlock 2.”

“Will do, Tucker out.” Straightening up, the Captain cleared his throat and nodded to T’Pol to join him as he got into the Turbolift. They rode the lift down in silence. Archer wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of anything, coming up empty every time. Meeting with Hess and Reed at the airlock, he nodded at them both, eyeing them with a critical eye. Reed was as composed as ever, face not betraying any questions he might have over the arrangements. He was armed with a phase pistol and was alert, but did not seem overly tense. Hess looked nervous but determined. He was sure that she would perform well. T’Pol addressed Hess and Reed.

“Remember, the Tellarites enjoy complaints and arguing. Don’t take anything they say personally.” Reed nodded stiffly and Hess shifted her grip on her toolkit slightly, though her expression was calm. Smiling reassuringly at her, Archer said.

“You’re going to be fine.” She nodded in thanks, not managing to say anything before the door light turned green. T’Pol touched the door release and the door opened. The Tellarite Captain peered up at them, eyes beady and suspicious.

“Which of you is Captain Archer?” Archer inclined his head.

“I am.” The Tellarite looked at him and said pompously.

“Your ship’s docking port is primitive and awkward to manoeuvre around!” The Captain replied immediately.

“Well your ship is a little small, it’s like a flea landing on a bull.” The Tellarite grumbled but also nodded in approval. He indicated behind him and without hesitating, Hess and Reed followed.

\-----

“The access point is here.” Going over, keeping a tight grip on her toolbox, Hess looked where the Tellarite was indicating. Their engine room was smaller than Enterprise, square rather than rectangular. Only a few others were present, standing at terminals and not paying attention to Hess and her guide. She peered at the open panel, taking in the foreign wiring and components. Aware that the alien was watching her, she hurriedly put down her tool box and pulled out a micro calibrator. Behind her, Lieutenant Reed returned to the wall near the door, after completing a sweep of the room. Hess turned to listen to what the engineer was saying and caught Reed’s eye. He nodded and a small smile graced his lips before his expression smoothed into calm professionalism. Reassured, Hess turned her attention back to the engine. She fiddled a bit, working out what everything was with the help of the alien engineer and intuition. Considering, she turned to the alien engineer.

“I think I can see what the problem is.” She couldn’t tell the expression of her helper, but she hoped it was convinced. “I just need to contact my ship to check that we have the right parts.” The engineer shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, and wandered away.

 _Come on Anna, you’ve got this!_  Trying not to feel like a failure, but knowing logically that it would be safest to check, she picked up her communicator.

“Hess to Engineering.” There was a beat and then a familiar voice replied.

“Engineering.” Refusing to hesitate or sound unsure she went on matter-of-factly.

“Sir, I’m working on the conduits of the Tellarite engine and I want a second opinion on...” As she explained what she was looking at and her question, she forced herself to sound causal, lest the Tellarites hear her tone of voice and question what she was doing. She doubted they would fail to complain if they realised that she wasn’t their most senior engineer. After she finished explaining, there was a short pause. Then he asked matter-of-factly.

“Is it an open circuit?” She peered in a bit more, humming.

“Doesn’t look like it, kinda hard to tell though.” His voice came again, still neutral.

“Check with their guys if it is, then you’ll know what to do next.” She found that he was right, she’d know what to do in either situation. Trying to show her gratitude through the comm but not to the Tellarites, she said quietly.

“Thank you sir.” Her boss suddenly sounded cheery as he signed off.

“Anytime! Engineering out.” Feeling a lot more confident, Hess continued with the repairs under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Reed.

\----

Rostov and Carter convened in a far corner of the engine room, spying at the Commander sitting at his desk. Deciding they were safe, Carter turned and started in a low tone.

“So what do you think?”

“It’s hard to tell. I mean, it does sound very plausible, we all know the boss is training Hess for Chief Engineer. If she can get a promotion, she’d be considered for the next NX starship.”

“We all know that but that doesn’t explain why he’s bummed about it.”

“Well, doesn’t it? He loves seeing new engines, it could just be that he’s missing out this time.”

“But he could have gone over with her, couldn’t he? Observe but not help her unless she-” Rostov made a motion with his hand, cutting her off. She followed his gaze to see the Commander rise from his desk and touch the comm. They couldn’t hear what he was saying from their position. Rostov moved to go over, but Carter stopped him. She nodded her head at Crewman Kelly positioned close to their boss. “We’ll ask her later. You are no good at this stealth thing, are you?” Rostov quirked an eyebrow at that.

“And you are?” Seeing her mischievous smile, he pursed his lips. “On second thoughts, I don’t want to know.”

“We just keep our ears and eyes out. The pieces will fall into place…” she looked over again and saw that the Commander had sat back down again. She couldn’t make out his expression, but his body language wasn’t very encouraging. Her heart ached a little. The Commander was a good man; he didn’t deserve to be made upset. Turning back to Rostov, she saw her pity reflected in his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly.

“How about I glue my hand to something? That always cheers him up.” Carter just rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, we shouldn’t mention anything to Hess. Let’s just, keep an eye on things, yeah?” Sighing a little, he nodded in agreement and they went back to work before they were noticed and told off for slacking.

\---

Feeling a bit nervous and chiding herself for it, Hoshi took a deep breath and pressed the door comm. She was just visiting a friend to give them a book. Resisting the urge to look around to see if anyone could see her, she considered that perhaps he wasn’t in his room. It was 20:00 and she knew he was on alpha shift so it was likely that he was in his room and awake. Though probably only a few seconds had gone by, it felt longer. She was about to ring again or maybe walk away when the door opened. Trip blinked at her, looking surprised for a long moment. He was wearing sweats and his hair was ruffled, like he’d been running his hand through it a lot. Then his expression cleared and he smiled slightly.

“Hey, Hoshi. Come in.” Ignoring the weird moment, she entered behind him, trying not to be obvious about looking around his room. She hadn’t been in there before and was curious what it was like. It was bigger than her quarters, of course, but not by much. There was a large diving helmet above the bed, books and photos on the desk, but otherwise it was as plain as the other quarters.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” He went to his desk, where it was evident he’d just been sitting, shuffling some things around. He waved a dismissive hand at her words.

“Nah, just catching up on some stuff.” Seeing her hovering awkwardly in the middle of the room he smiled gently and indicated to the chair. “You can sit down.” She took the seat as he slumped onto the bed.

“I heard about Hess repairing the Tellarite engines, did it in record time apparently.” He smiled tiredly, pride clear in his voice.

“Course she did, she’s a four-star engineer. I only hire the best.” Hoshi smiled back, pleased for the chance to banter.

“Four-star?” He huffed mock-wisely.

“Well, there’s always room for improvement.”

“Oh? And what star rating are you?” He placed a hand delicately on his chest, imitating a southern belle.

“Why Miss Sato, you insult me with your question! Five, of course!” Laughing, Hoshi found herself relaxing so much she almost forgot why she’d visited.

“Oh, I came to give you this.” She held out the PADD shyly and he leant over and took it, tapping the screen as she explained. “It’s an Arkonian children’s story.” He didn’t look up, still scrolling through. A little unnerved, realising that Trip usually made a point of making eye contact when she was unsure, she went on hurriedly. “I’ve been looking for a good one ever since you told me about learning some phrases from that Arkonian.”

That had been a nice conversation. He’d boasted about coping without the UT and joking that he’d soon have her out of a job. They’d talked a bit about what she’d learned of the language, the syntax was relatively simple apparently, and she’d suggested that he try learning it. He had laughed, revealing that he’d given up on alien languages after struggling with the basics of Vulcan years ago. Hoshi had been surprised that he’d tried learning Vulcan. After all, she had heard his opinion on Vulcans many times. Though of course getting to know T’Pol seemed to have tempered that opinion a lot. Trip had revealed that he’d overheard enough muttered comments in Vulcan during his time on Captain Jefferies’ team that he and another team member had tried learning. They hadn’t gotten very far, though he had still retained a number of engineering terms. Curious, Hoshi had thrown out some phrases in Vulcan and he’d tilted his head, eyes unfocusing as he listened. She thought that he’d understood some, but ultimately he laughed and claimed not to know what she was saying.

“Nohkto!” He’d cried and they’d giggled.

Hoshi suddenly realised that he still hadn’t looked at her. Unable to see his expression from the angle of his head, she couldn’t tell whether he was looking at it in interest or…just looking at it. Either way, it wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. The atmosphere in the room was taught with some kind of tension, none of the easy companionship lingering. Not understanding it and reconsidering the whole thing as she watched him sit silently, now it seemed a bit silly of her to assume that he’d want to study the language after only one idle conversation. Her voice wavered a little as she went on. “You don’t have to-”

“No!” He looked up then, intuiting her meaning and immediately trying to rectify it. “No, Hoshi it’s…” He swallows and then she became even more uncomfortable as she realised that he was struggling to think of something positive to say. “It’s great, thanks. It’s really…” He cleared his throat and smiled at her weakly. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired is all.”

“Is there something you want to talk about?” There was a long pause before he looked up at her and said.

“Yes.” He held her eyes and for a long moment she was trapped in the rip tide of pain she found there. Her heart started pumping harder. This was it. They’d all said that they’d be there for him when he needed them. Now the moment had come. She would help him, like he’d helped her so many times.

Then he broke away, looking down and laughed mutedly. “But I can’t. Sorry. It’s complicated, I shouldn’t-” his breathing sped up and she could feel the regret and agitation building as he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s, I’ve been ordered not to…please don’t, just, forget I said-”

“Trip. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything.” She tried to sound soothing, confident, not at all out of her depth. How could she comfort a superior officer over something she didn’t have clearance to know about? What burden must he be bearing to affect him this way? Desperately she remembered her decision with the others to be there for him if he needed. Her stomach dropped as she realised that they couldn’t be. There was a barrier between them, trapping him in and alone. She pushed down her fear of the unnamed thing and felt her way through. “I thought Malcolm said it wasn’t a security thing, but maybe you’d be allowed to talk to him about it? Whatever it is.” Trip’s breathing was evening out but this didn’t bring her any comfort as he stilled, staring at her.

“Malcolm?” He said slowly. “What does Malcolm have to do with anything?” Flustered now, Hoshi cursed her slip of the tongue and failed to act casual as she stammered.

“Oh, well, we were talking the other day…and, erm, about you and-”

“You and Malcolm were talking about me?”

“Well, we just, noticed that-” The look in his eyes stopped her cold. It wasn’t anger per se, maybe a cousin to it. Something hard, something dangerous. Like a rabbit under the eagle’s shadow, she held still, waiting in fear. His voice was stiff and awful when he finally spoke.

“I appreciate your concern, but if you have any doubts about my ability to do my job-”

“No!” Forgetting she was speaking with a superior, Hoshi interrupted. “No, it wasn’t anything like that! Forget I said anything. We’ll both just, forget this conversation ever happened.” He eyed her, that look still tinging the edges of his gaze.

“Yeah, deal.” The bitterness was like a slap in the face, she’d never heard anything close to it in his voice before. Knowing that she’d probably made things worse, Hoshi cringed at the thought of just leaving him. Before she could think better about it, she slid a careful hand on his forearm.

“We’re all here for you.” He flinched under her touch and shifted back, not looking at her, jaw clenching. Further embarrassed, she snatched her hand away and looked down. He didn’t move again and neither did she, her mind blank. Finally, he said hoarsely.

“You wouldn’t be if you knew.” Close to tears, out of frustration, out of sadness, Hoshi stood up and went to the comm.

“How about I call the Captain-”

“No!” He reached out a hand to stop her. “No, please.” She put her hand down, but wavered.

“Trip, I’m not just going to leave you.” Defeated, he sighed and said quietly.

“T’Pol. If you have to…” He trailed off, unable to finish. Nodding, she typed in the code for the Sub-Commander.

\----

The characters on screen were no doubtless discussing something dramatic, but T’Pol had stopped paying attention. She looked around the Mess Hall surreptitiously, noting the attendees. A few science crewmen, the two cartographers, some engineering crewmen, Phlox and Ensign Mayweather: it was a small number this evening. Considering that the selection was a subdued political drama, it was perhaps no surprise. On average, the majority of the crew who attended these ‘movie nights’ preferred action packed adventures or sweeping romances. Not that she had been monitoring the data of crew participation in this human ritual. It would have been prudent perhaps, to have ascertained if the Commander would be attending before going herself. Now she was trying to calculate how to leave without anyone noticing. With the number of yawns and wandering gazes she was detecting, it would not be easy. Luckily, the film chose that moment to provide a loud noise that diverted the attention of the audience. Taking her chance, she slipped out.

She headed for Engineering, theorising that was the most likely place the Commander would be at this time. Her concern for his well-being had increased in recent days. Ever since Hess had returned successful from the Tellarite ship, the Commander had been exhibiting increasingly isolationist behaviour. He still performed his duties to his usual excellent quality, both in terms of operational and managerial tasks. At least Hess hadn’t escalated any problems in the department and the results were as steady and impressive as ever.

Despite his bold invitation, T’Pol had not ‘come closer’ to observe him, choosing instead to continue watching him from a distance. She believed that it easier to be objective although, she mused, less ‘comfortable’ as he had put it. Whilst he still sent letters to his usual correspondents, mostly family members and colleagues in the R&D department at Starfleet, Tucker had begun to neglect spending time with his friends on Enterprise. He chose unsociable hours to visit the gym, began eating in his quarters or at his desk instead of the Mess Hall. Despite a classic Tucker movie being shown the week before, he had not attended.  True to the Captain’s terms, she had not read any of the letters, though the temptation had skirted her consciousness. If only to gain more insight into the Commander’s state of mind than simply observing from a distance. So far, all she could conclude was that he was isolating himself from others. Although the root cause was known to her, the exact motive and goal was not.

On her way to the turbolift, T’Pol heard Ensign Sato calling her on the comm. She went over and responded.

“T’Pol.”

“Sub-Commander,” there was a pause, “would you be able to come to Commander Tucker’s quarters?” Taken aback, T’Pol hesitated for a microsecond before responding.

“I will be there shortly.” Running through possible scenarios as she marched to B Deck, T’Pol felt her emotions stirring. She would need to meditate soon in order to regain complete control.

Ensign Sato answered Commander Tucker’s door and let her in, not looking her in the eye. T’Pol entered, taking in the sight of the Commander sitting stiffly on the bed, eyes forward. He looked at her as she came in, expression closed off but his gaze was steady and unflinching. This had to be linked to what she'd been seeking to talk to him about.

“What did you tell her?” She demanded to know. Tucker swallowed but didn’t speak. Ensign Sato approached cautiously and filled the silence.

“Nothing.” She looked between them and winced. “He didn’t tell me anything, said it was confidential.” The Sub-Commander kept on staring at Tucker and he kept on staring back at her. Neither moved though Sato shifted uncomfortably in the background. Eventually, Tucker nodded and T’Pol had gathered enough. Though the Commander seemed to have managed to deflect from disclosing the exact details, it was evident that he had slipped considerably. Now she needed to perform some damage control. She turned to the Ensign sharply and said flatly.

“You need not concern yourself with this Ensign, I will speak to the Commander. You may go.” This did not reassure Sato, who looked over at Tucker worriedly.

“He won’t get in trouble, will he? He didn’t tell me anything.” The Sub-Commander addressed her again, just as shortly.

“Ensign, I must insist that you do not discuss this with anyone.” Sato looked as if she would question this so T’Pol cut in ruthlessly. “Captain’s orders.” The Ensign acknowledged this with a hasty nod.

“Alright, I understand. But…” She looked over at Tucker again, who glanced at her and nodded wordlessly. Reluctantly, Sato left.

There was a long pause after the door shut behind her. The Sub-Commander looked at the still figure, took a cushion from the side and then primly sat down on the floor. She indicated in front of her.

“Join me.”

\----

Phlox paced Sick Bay, swinging his arms and wracking his brain for a solution. It was a difficult path to tread. On the one hand, the Commander would benefit from talking about his feelings and it was indeed heartening to see his friends' shared concern for him. On the other, he had to be careful they did not discover any details surrounding the Vissian incident. T’Pol had shared the information with the explicit instruction not to tell anyone else so he could not even hint at it for the others to work out it for themselves. His heart went out to the Commander and how it must feel to be in mourning with the added weight of being unable to discuss it and seek comfort from his loved ones. It had been more than a week since he and Trip’s other friends had agreed to make themselves available and from his observations, it was clear that Trip hadn’t taken anyone up on the offer. Grimly, he knew that he had no choice. The door swished open and the Captain strode in.

“Morning Doc, you asked to see me?”

“I want to talk to you about Commander Tucker.” The Doctor’s eyes narrowed as he observed the Captain stiffen. The moment passed and Archer cleared his throat, trying to portray the appropriate amount of concern at this statement.

“Is he alright?”

“The Sub-Commander told me about the Vissian’s suicide.” The Captain stared at him for a long moment before opening his mouth, frown in place. The Doctor cut him off before he could start. “Disclosing this information was within the Sub-Commander’s rights as First Officer, as the crew’s well-being is her responsibility, and she is concerned for Commander Tucker’s well-being. As the ship’s doctor, I need all the facts if I am to help my patients.”

“It’s not that serious, is it? I mean…” The Captain trailed off in thought, seeming to realise for the first time the breadth of the impact the events could have on his friend.

“As I told the Sub-Commander, feeling responsible for another’s death is a heavy burden for anyone to bear.” No doubt reflecting on his own experience of blaming himself for the deaths of the colonists, the Captain murmured sadly.

“Yeah, I know.” His shoulders lowered as he went on, mostly to himself. “Oh, Trip why did you…” He trailed off, looking down sadly. “He knew what he was doing, I had to reprimand him.”

“And where is my reprimand Captain?” At Archer’s questioning glance, the doctor went on seriously. “For giving the Commander the analysis of the Cogentior’s brain scans.” Archer grunted and waved a hand.

“You didn’t make him use the information like that, you weren’t involved directly.”

“That’s my point, Captain. We cannot control the actions of others, only influence them. I do not believe that the Commander can be solely blamed for the Cogenitor’s suicide.”  Shaking his head, agitated, the Captain said sternly.

“He was warned not to interfere but he still did. I cannot ignore behaviour like that.”

“Captain,” Phlox started, then he sighed and changed track. “Our own personal opinions on the situation notwithstanding, I must say this: whilst I understand the reasoning behind the terms of the Commander’s reprimand, I believe they are hindering his recovery. The implication of a loss of trust is only intensifying the Commander’s self-doubt and possible depression.”

“It’s not an implication, he has lost my trust!” Even as he snapped, the Captain’s brows creased and he breathed in deeply. “Depression? Are you sure?” The Doctor shrugged.

“Without Commander Tucker’s cooperation, I cannot judge the extent of his reactions to these events, so I am unable to decisively judge his ability to complete his duties. Based on my initial observations, he is not any danger to himself or others, but I will need more to go on. One thing I know for sure is that he needs to be able to speak to someone about all this. If not me, then someone else.” The Captain swallowed, jaw stiff.

“Keep me informed.” Then he shook his head and went on firmly ignoring Phlox’s point. “I can’t just lift the conditions. He needs to learn.”

“He already has. And you cannot tell me that this incident has undone years of trust and friendship between you.” He held out for a long moment, before the Captain deflated and admitted.

“No.” Giving in to the urge to unload, Archer perched on the stool, hand rubbing his forehead. “This is such a mess. I don’t know how to put this behind us. He barely looks at me now, goes round calling me ‘sir’ all the time.” He jumped off the stool and began pacing. “I’m not much better, every time I see him, it’s like I’ve forgotten how we used to talk.”

“Well, perhaps you need to discuss the incident. Clear the air, so to speak.”

“No.” He sighed. “I’d just get too angry at him, trust me, it would not help.” Phlox narrowed his eyes and folded his arms in impatience.

“Captain, I believe you owe it to your friendship to try.” They eyed each other for a long moment before the comm interrupted.

“Bridge to the Captain.” Avoiding Phlox’s accusing eyes, Archer pressed the comm and replied, listening to the crewmember go on. “We’ve detected an alien ship dropping out of warp, they’re hailing us.” With one last guilty look at the Doctor, the Captain acknowledged and headed for the Bridge.


	5. Empathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I re-wrote this so many times! I felt like Archer needed something to kick him into gear so: suddenly plot happens! Please note the updated tags (they relate to the next chapters). I wasn't originally going to go there but it kind of grew out of the re-writes for this chapter. I'll put notes at the end of those chapters with details for anyone who wants to check first.
> 
> Also warning there might be a bit of a wait for the last two chapters, need to do some re-writes and padding.
> 
> Unbeta'd so let me know if you see any mistakes and thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!  
> :D

At first, Captain Archer didn’t know what to make of the Felixians. They were short and tubby and very cheerful. Almost farcically cheerful. They reminded him of depictions of Leprechauns, only with stranger accents. He urged himself not to think of them like that in his head, lest he suffer an unfortunate slip of the tongue. T’Pol had mentioned that Vulcans had had limited contact with them, as the Felixians were friendly enough but ultimately too much ‘hard work’. After the first conversation he’d had with one, he couldn’t see how. They were very certainly a happy and friendly people. Dutifully, he ignored the smirks on the Bridge, mostly likely due to the soft trilling sound the aliens made in between sentences. Instead he focused on the Felixian Captain inviting him and his crew aboard.

“We’d be honoured.” Captain Sheesh’an clapped her hands joyfully.

“Excellent! We will prepare a special feast,” she paused, beady eyes raking over the humans on the bridge, “though perhaps we would not be able to accommodate your whole crew. Apologies, but our ship is quite small.”

“No trouble at all, I will bring a select few.” Signing off, he nodded to Ensign Sato and Lieutenant Reed. They rose from their stations and headed for the turbolift. He pushed the comm.

“Archer to Commander Tucker.”

“Go ahead Cap’n.”

“Meet us at airlock 2.” If the instruction confused him, as the news of the aliens might not have spread through the whole ship, the engineer’s tone didn’t show it when he replied.

“Acknowledged.” Breathing in deeply, hoping that he wasn’t making a mistake and turned to T’Pol.

“There any protocols or customs that we should know about?” She replied in the negative, something in her gaze making him pause and doubt his decision to leave her and take Tucker with him instead. The Doctor’s lecture that morning had made him reconsider how he was treating his Chief Engineer and whether he was leaning on the side of too harsh. Also, he’d remembered T’Pol’s argument that one had to learn through experience. Those had been the main reasons he’d decided to test Tucker’s newly tempered diplomatic skills under his watchful eye. Although trying to find a way back to their easy friendship was maybe another motive. The measured way his First Officer was looking at him was giving him a strange feeling of being judged. “No desire to meet these Felixians yourself?” She merely lifted an eyebrow. He chuckled and dismissed the uneasy feeling of being found lacking. T’Pol would have said something if she’d disapproved of his course of action. She always did. “Then you have the bridge.” There was no censure in her voice as she responded.

“Understood, Captain.” Shaking off his doubts, he waited for the lift to come back up.

\----

In the turbolift, Hoshi immediately filled Malcolm in on what had happened the night before. He didn’t speak as she finished, turning all the new information over in his head, so she said nervously.

“I guess it’s on to Plan B.” He huffed.

“And what is Plan B?” The lift slowed as they reached the right deck.

“Trust the Sub-Commander can handle it?” Unhappy at this but unable to think of any other better strategy, he nodded and the two exited the lift. Inside, Malcolm shook with anger. He was angry in part with the revelation that his and the other’s plans to make themselves available was all for nought and in part against whatever secret was affecting his friend this way. Trip was obviously in need of support but instead he was being shut down and worse, judged, if Hoshi’s account of T’Pol’s response was accurate. Although he didn’t know exactly what was going on, he didn’t like what he’d heard. Malcolm considered, if something was bothering him he wouldn’t discuss it with any of the Commander’s available options. He’d go to Trip if he really needed to share something that was bothering him. Some of his anger was leeched by sadness. Trip made a good listener and shoulder to cry on – metaphorically of course. But now he couldn’t repay the favour for the handful of times he’d been comforted by his friend.

They turned the corner and saw Trip coming from the other way. Well, he’d just have to show his support in other ways. The Engineer called out to them good-naturedly, showing no signs of any traumatic encounters the night before.

“Hey, what’s up? I hear we have some new friends.” Momentarily uplifted by the thought that perhaps meeting these funny people would cheer his friend up, Malcolm smirked.

“Felixians. Short and happy.” Hoshi laughed at Trip’s bemused expression in response to Malcolm’s short explanation, not portraying any of the awkwardness that Malcolm supposed she must be feeling. She put her hands behind her back and added mischievously.

 “I think they’re cute.” Tucker raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, a small smirk on his lips.

“Cute? As in, ‘oh my God I want to take that puppy home’ cute? Or-” Seeing where Trip was going, Malcolm interrupted, suppressing his happiness at the Commander’s joke. He’d missed his humour for the last few days as Trip had spent less time with him, less time with all of his friends.

“The former. Although, I’d say they actually look more like little Lep-” Archer interrupted from behind them with a vaguely stern tone.

“Felixians.” He looked between them firmly. “They’re called Felixians.” Lieutenant Reed nodded stiffly, a little embarrassed at the subliminal reprimand and all of them stood a little straighter in response. Softening slightly as he saw the effect on them, Archer smiled a little. “They do seem…very enthusiastic to make our acquaintance.” Looking around at the others, Tucker nodded, saying wryly.

“Well I hope so, Cap’n! We could use some more friendly faces out here.” The group relaxed a little more and Hoshi said warmly.

“The Vissians were nice.” Malcolm looked up to contribute his own approval of the Vissian race but stopped when he saw a complicated look pass between Trip and the Captain, before Trip dipped his head. Then the moment passed as the airlock pressurised and they entered. The door slid open to the alien’s ship to reveal a small group of the cheerful race. Introductions were made, Malcolm watching them carefully for signs of danger. They carried no weapons that he could see and unless their social queues were wildly different, they seemed relaxed. There was Captain Sheesh’an, her second in command Bullia, who seemed to hold a position similar to Quartermaster, and finally Hapt’an, the Chef. Their uniforms were all different colours with various, seemingly meaningless patterns woven into the fine-looking fabric. Making a mental note to enquire about them to Hoshi later, Malcolm turned his attention to Archer introducing them in turn.  

Everyone introduced, they entered the ship and immediately had to stoop as the ceilings were so low, the Archer waving off the Felixian Captain’s apologies good-naturedly. Malcolm kept alert, but he wasn’t picking up any signs of hostility of other crewmembers on the ship. They had a quick tour of the ship – at least the parts of the ship that they could stand in. Naturally Trip took an interest in the engine room, though he didn’t approach any of the waving engineers they saw in there. Hoshi tried out some conversations in the Felixian’s language and the Captain chatted aimably to their alien hosts.

They explained that though they were Warp capable, most of their species stayed in their own system. Their engines were fast enough for deep space exploration, but most of them who ventured out into space simply did so to enjoy seeing the stars in a different way. Though clearly intelligent, they simply lacked the hunger for knowledge and exploration to drive them to venture further afield. This ship was only so far from their home system searching for dilithium. Their chef exclaimed in a very care-free manner.

“No luck so far!” Reed exchanged a raised eyebrow with Trip then saw his friend glance at the Captain and school his expression immediately. Malcolm couldn’t see any reproach on their Captain’s face, but he didn’t have time to ponder the moment long as Captain Sheesh’an turned to Archer and asked interestedly.

“So what is your reason for being out in deep space?” With a small smile, Archer launched into his usual speech, seeming pleased by the receptive audience of the Felixians.

Soon after, they sat down to dinner, joined by an engineer and the ship’s doctor. All the humans suppressed groans of relief at not having to bend over slightly and tucked in to the slightly salty but otherwise tasty food. They shared stories of first contacts, apparently the Felixians had had their fair share of hostile encounters. Whilst they didn’t have any high-yield weapons, their ship was very fast and nimble, able to avoid most predatory vessels they met. Fortunately, they’d also met some friendly aliens and they entertained their new human friends with some funny stories. Malcolm hoped that some of their awkward encounters made the Captain feel better about their disastrous first contact with the Krestassians. Looking around the table, the Lieutenant saw that Trip was having a very long and detailed discussion with their engineer. He smiled to himself, hoping that this visit would help distract their own engineer from whatever it was that was bothering him.

It started so subtly that Malcolm didn’t notice until it had taken hold of him. At first, he thought the heaviness in his stomach was a reaction to their food, delicious though it was. But then he recognised the feeling: it was sadness, a waist-high sensation that was tugging at his gut. Blinking, an undercurrent of confusion made him try to find the source of this inexplicable emotion. He glanced at Hoshi and saw her posture sagging. She was still speaking to one of the Felixians, but she didn’t look as interested as before. Then he saw the Captain in a similar state, still engaging but with less enthusiasm, gaze becoming distant. Finally, he turned to the Commander and his hypothesis was thrown off when he saw that he was just as animated as ever. He was waving his arms slightly at something, a smile playing on his lips as the Felixian engineer replied in that trilling way they had. The Captain’s voice cut through the armoury officer’s observations.

“Well, you must visit our ship tomorrow.”

“Why Captain, thank you, we are most intrigued to see more of you delightful creatures!” The Felixian Captain stood and clapped her hands energetically, the others stood and did the same. The humans at the table glanced at each other, not moving, before Tucker stood tentatively.  The Captain blinked and followed suit. Then everyone was up and clapping, the humans noticeably less enthusiastically than their new friends. Finally, their Captain stopped and said gaily.

“Let us show you back to your ship, so you can rest before the new day!” Numbly, Malcolm forced himself to follow them back to the docking port. On the way, watching the back of Trip’s head, he considered how terrible he felt and how the Commander must have felt the night before. Many things could annoy or frustrate Trip, but the way Hoshi talked about his demeanour hinted at something serious, something big. And it seemed like he was alone in coping with whatever it was. That thought weighed more heavily on Malcolm’s body, so he almost felt like he was wading through tar as they reached their ship. He hadn’t felt this down in many years, not since he'd heard that his uncle had passed. Once pleasantries had been suffered through and they were safely back on the ship, the Captain nodded to the others vaguely and left. Hoshi yawned, bidding Trip and Malcolm a good night before heading for bed. Having lost some of his bounce when the Felixians had departed, Trip indicated his head and Malcolm followed him to their quarters. As they walked, his body began to feel marginally lighter, like he was slowly defrosting. And suddenly, without even registering what he was saying, he started talking.

 “I’m sorry, Trip. I’m so sorry.” Trip looked at him in confusion.

“What about?” Part of him was muttering that this was a bad idea, but it was unable to stop the words pouring out.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you.” His friend was now showing open concern.

“Are you feeling alright?” Distracted from his confession, Malcolm's head listed to the side gently as he thought.

“Yes. Just…tired and slow.” Not seeming completely reassured, Trip patted him on the shoulder anyway, saying confidently.

“Get a good night’s rest and you’ll be back to fighting fit in the morning.” Although he was tired, his mouth kept on moving.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you with…the thing, the thing that’s making you sad.” Trip stopped suddenly. Malcolm came to a stop as well and looked at him, swaying slightly at the loss of momentum. He was starting to feel a little better underneath the exhaustion, but things still were a bit distant. He didn’t have the mental wherewithal to successfully interpret Trip’s facial expressions so he just waited. Finally, Trip said quietly.

“Not much to do there, Malcolm.” Tipping forward, now completely at the end of his rope, Malcolm slurred.

“Still, I want to, help you like you’ve helped me. It’s so frustrating!” Taking his friend by the elbow to steady him, Trip smiled sadly.

“I know.” He held them there a moment before gently leading Malcolm to his quarters. “Time for bed now, off you go.” There he helped the exhausted officer out of his uniform and under the covers. Unable to express his gratitude in words, Malcolm clumsily patted his friends arm and just before he slid into sleep, he heard his friend say quietly. “Thank you anyway.”

\-----

Sub-Commander T’Pol watched the figures on the chronometer change to indicate the hour before the start of alpha shift. She had not slept the previous night, though she had managed to meditate, she had still been disturbed from rest by a few difficult issues to which she was attempting to find solutions. In addition to the problem of Commander Tucker’s increasing self-isolation from his colleagues, she had also considered the break from protocol the Captain had shown the evening before. After returning from the Felixian’s ship, he had not sent her a report, or even notice that they had returned. Though the hour had been late, she had expected him to have debriefed her. But the Captain had not contacted her at all nor responded to her hails. She had commed Commander Tucker instead of venturing to the Captain’s quarters to divine the source of the Captain’s absence of communication, deciding that there could be any number of logical reasons for it. The Commander had given her an unofficial brief of what had occurred on the alien ship and the plans for the next day, commenting only that the Captain and the rest of the away party had grown tired throughout the dinner, so perhaps Archer had merely decided to go immediately to bed and forgotten to keep T’Pol informed. Not satisfied with this excuse for the lack of consideration, T’Pol nonetheless accepted it as the most likely explanation. She had thanked the Commander and, belatedly, offered to help him meditate before he went to sleep himself. There had been a minute pause on his end, before he had politely declined, indicating that he would try on his own. Though she privately thought that it would be most prudent for her to supervise his early attempts, in order to give advice and monitor his progress, she found to her shame that she did not mention this, merely accepting his refusal and bidding him goodnight.

It had been that reluctance to grant further aid to the Commander which had haunted her night. Their session the night before had seemed to have done a little to calm him, perhaps only in the unspoken reassurance that she would not penalise him for any indiscretions. Her attempts to coach the Commander through a basic meditation were otherwise unsuccessful, his frame still tense, mind too confused to focus properly. The complex tangle of emotions had still been as strong as ever despite him dutifully completing the breathing patterns. She had not had any in-person contact with him since leaving his quarters, so she could only guess as to whether he had been able to rest any better than he had since the incident.

Despite this initial failure, she still theorised that this seemed to be the best way that she could assist him to recover, especially as he had dismissed her offer to discuss his emotional responses. But she had not followed the logical course of action and continued to assist him personally. She had not insisted as her duty as First Officer required or as her duty as a friend required. To her dismay, she had discovered a further reluctance to examine this decision and its root cause. But Vulcans were nothing if not ruthlessly self-disciplined and so she forced herself to consider her reactions. In the Commander's quarters, she had felt empathy, frustration and…something else. It was similar to admiration, she supposed. She saw his efforts to follow her instruction, to help himself overcome difficulty, overcome his human failings, in a way. His situation had induced in her the empathy, his lack of success the frustration but his dogged determination had induced the….admiration.

Before joining the crew of the Enterprise, T’Pol had agreed with the common assumption among Vulcans on Earth that the majority of humans simply did not possess the capacity for the level of mental discipline as wielded by their superior allies. Whilst this might be true of some humans, she had learned that she, among others of her species, had underestimated the determination and force of will that drove the majority of crewmembers on the ship. The Commander was one of the best examples of what the combination of fierce intelligence and ‘grit’, as the humans called it, could achieve. Brilliance in some areas, unfortunately, did not signify instant success in others. She wryly thought that statement could also relate to herself, as her extensive hypothesising and reasoning seemed not to have produced any meaningful results.

Now, she made her way to the Captain’s Mess trying to prepare herself for multiple possible scenarios she might find there. The Captain was already there, sitting in his seat and spreading butter on his toast, posture showing some residual tiredness but expression neutral. Beside him, the Commander was taking a sip of orange juice, raising an eyebrow at her over his glass as he saw her. Now well-read in his facial expressions, she recognised this one as friendly greeting. It seemed that no matter her own reactions to their meditation session, Tucker was not allowing his own reactions show. _Perhaps he did not have any_ , she theorised as she sat in her customary place. _But then, when has he not reacted to seemingly anything and everything?_ The Captain derailed that train of thought.

“The Commander and I were just talking about the details of the Felixian’s visit.”

“Yes, the Commander informed me of their imminent visit yesterday.” The flicker in Archer’s gaze showed that he was aware of his error the night before. He didn't mention it though, soldiering on.

“Well. I was thinking that you and I should give them a tour of the ship and then we could have a buffet lunch in the Mess Hall. Then they'd be able to mingle with the crew." He said wryly. "I think there'll be enough space.” Inclining her head in agreement, T'Pol turned to the Commander.

"You mentioned that their chief engineer would like to see our engines." He swallowed his mouthful and not looking at either of them said with an affected casualness. 

"I'll be on shift then but I thought Hess would like to shadow us. Since she did so well with the Tellerites." The Captain nodded.

"Sounds good. We'll try to keep them all together anyway. Wouldn't want any of them getting lost behind a conduit somewhere!" Trip managed a smile and T'Pol began eating

\----

Though she found the pitch of the Felixian's voices grating, and her night without sleep seemed to be taking its toll on her energy levels, T'Pol noticed nothing else remarkable about the tour of the ship. She returned to her duties after escorting the group to the Mess Hall, leaving them with the Captain and other crewmembers who were eating at that time. The afternoon continued as normal until T’Pol began to recognise a pattern in the morning reports she was reviewing. She had one stern conversation with a department head who had been failing to discipline underperforming subordinates, growing increasingly concerned with their seeming lack of concern during the reprimand. Eventually she sent them to sick bay for a mental evaluation, hypothesiing that stress or another medical condition could explain their departure from their normal professionalism. Then she realised that other officers were also neglecting their duties in a similar manner. Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker were among the few who were still performing as normal, though the former’s reports were perhaps less detailed than as habitual. Although many things could be said about humans, negligence of duty did not occur often without a sound explanation. Deciding that she needed to discover the source of this phenomena quickly, especially due to the presence of their alien guests, T’Pol went straight to the Captain. She found him among their guests, listening to a long, seemingly boring, speech, eyes slightly gazed as he nodded absently. Capitalising on a moment when the Felixian paused for breath, she interrupted with an apologetic nod.

“Captain, I need to talk to you in private.” Stirred from his polite stupor, he looked at her for a moment before shaking his head.

“I’m afraid I can’t help right now, T’Pol.” Undeterred, she leaned closer and lowered her voice in an effort to keep her words from the aliens.

“There is an issue with the crew that requires your immediate attention.” Sighing heavily as if exhausted, the Captain looked at her again.

“I’m sorry T’Pol, I can’t just now. I’m sure you can take care of whatever it is.” Staring at him, T’Pol was suddenly reminded of the effects of a particular kind of radiation on the crew, causing them to become obsessed with small matters. The details differed, but the overall result was the same. After he dismissed her, T’Pol headed straight for sickbay, hoping that this time the Denobulan would not be affected so they could work together to help the crew.

“Sub-Commander!” She turned, hiding her surprise as she saw Tucker striding down the hall. She suddenly realised that this was the most purposeful and ‘switched on’, as the humans would say, he’d seemed in a while. “You got a minute?” Despite this new encouraging development, she still had to address the pressing issue.

“I was on my way to Sickbay.” He joined her and matched her pace.

“Me too.” She raised an eyebrow and he continued. “I wanted to talk to Phlox about some of my team, they’ve been…out of sorts since the aliens came on board.” This was an interesting development.

“How so?”

“Little things: being late to shifts, small accidents because of them being careless, and the mood…” He shook his head, voice tight and serious. “There’s something going on here, something affecting all of them at the same time.” T’Pol didn’t reply, merely inclining her head.

They entered Sick Bay to see Phlox treating a crewmember with a hyprospray.

“Ah, Sub-Commander, Commander. I need to speak with you.” He nodded to the crewmember who smiled sadly and shuffled off. The officers exchanged glances. Tucker ventured.

“This about the crew being a bit, off?”

“In essence, yes. I’ve noticed an increase in crewmembers coming to me with minor complaints-”

The door opened and Ensign Sato entered, looking distracted. She didn’t see them until she almost walked into them. They all looked at her and she saw them, stopping and blinking.

“Yes, Ensign, how can I help you?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll come back-” she turned to leave but Trip spoke.

“You feeling okay?” She turned back slowly, shrugging.

“Just, feeling a bit listless. It’s probably just me being tired. Those Felixians talk a lot, it’s exhausting to keep up.” As Phlox scanned the Ensign, T’Pol noticed the Commander’s expression change and she recognised that he had an idea. When he came out of the thought he saw her looking and quickly schooled his expression, clearly not about to share. She prompted him quietly, out of ear-shot of the others.

“You’ve thought of something.” He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes.

“It’s probably not…it’s nothing.” She raised her eyebrow and held her silence until he looked up and saw her. He sighed. “It’s just, those aliens are awfully cheery all the time and,” his voice grew quieter and quieter as he finished, “it seems like the happier they get, the sadder the crew get.” Pausing a moment to consider the hypothesis, T’Pol replied.

“The apparent ‘happiness’ the Felixians exhibit is unlikely to have influenced the crew to become less so.” Uncharacteristically, the Commander immediately abandoned his idea and agreed with her assertion.

“Yeah, as I said, it’s probably just…” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. T’Pol’s stomach squirmed and she said quietly.

“Commander, I was merely suggesting that your theory did not contain any evidence to support it.” She steeled herself and forced herself on. “You have proven on many occasions to correctly intuit situations based on mostly,” she wrinkled her nose despite herself, “gut instinct.” Tucker stared at her for a long moment, surprise in his features. T’Pol did not like the realisation that he was taken aback by her praise of him but Phlox broke in.

“There you go Ensign; this should help you get a good night’s rest.” Ensign Sato nodded in thanks and left. Phlox put down the hypospray and approached them. Eager to get the Commander back on track, T’Pol said decisively.

“The Commander was just about to support his hypothesis that the Felixian’s arrival is linked to this phenomenon among the crew.” Tucker glanced at her, before nodding and saying more assertively than before.

“The Captain and the others who came to the ship yesterday were very tired after dinner.” T’Pol remembered the Captain’s slip in protocol and nodded. Tucker turned to address Phlox. “And I bet that the crewmembers you’ve just been treating have been in direct contact with them, like Hoshi.” The Doctor considered, not speaking as Tucker went on, looking back to T’Pol. “We should check on the people who are with them now.” Thinking of the Captain’s response to her query earlier, she admitted that the link between the alien’s arrival and the drop in mood was likely to be linked, though it was important to discern exactly what the connection was.

“I just spoke to the Captain, who is currently in conversation with them. He did seem, disinterested in his duties.” A wrinkle of worry appeared in Tucker’s forehead at that.  “However, we need more evidence in order to discern the exact cause of this phenomena.” She addressed the doctor. “Scan the crewmembers who seem to have been affected and see what you can learn.”

“I already did.” He led them to the bioscanner and put up the data. They gathered round as he explained.

“It’s the strangest thing. The brain chemistry of the crewmembers I've scanned has been affected, see here where the chemical balance has been disrupted.” He showed them the scans. “I can’t be sure without examining them or whatever equipment they have brought with them, but I think it’s mostly likely that the Felixians are releasing a pheromone or some kind of chemical which induces this reaction, causing a general low mood in the crew. It might not just be about level of exposure, some of the crew could be more susceptible than others,” he glanced at them, “depression is a complex disorder, with many factors, which explains why not everyone who has had contact with the Felixians have shown the same symptoms.” He stood looking at the scans a little longer before T’Pol prompted him

“The pheromone, doctor.”

“Ah yes, I don’t think its range would be very great, a dozen metres at most. If it is coming from the Felixians themselves, it could be some kind of natural defence mechanism, designed to subdue any attackers.” He said with a hint of a smile. “So you would both be correct, it is natural behaviour of the Felixians and also, making the crew ‘sadder’.” T’Pol felt the empty beat in which Trip would have normally said something wry and teasing, before she asked.

“Is it an involuntary secretion?”

“Well that’s impossible to tell without close study.” He shrugged lightly, probably thinking about the possible tests he could run. “They seem like they might be amenable.” Tucker countered uncharacteristically grimly.

“But it might not be an accident. It could be something they’re releasing deliberately.” T’Pol considered him for a moment.

“Have you seen any of them with any equipment which might point to a deliberate release?” He thought and then shook his head.

“I don’t think they brought anything with them. Or at least I didn’t see anything on them when they came though Engineering. Doesn’t mean that it’s not hidden, or something that we wouldn’t notice.” Prioritising actions, she turned back to Phlox.

“Can you counteract it?”

“Yes, I could make something. But I believe that simply removing the crew from the exposure of the pheromone would allow their brain chemistry to return to normal.” Tucker summarised the situation succinctly.

“So we just have to get the Felixians, and whatever is releasing this thing, off the ship and this will all stop?”

“Yes, but the sooner the better, the longer the exposure, the more likely the imbalance will become permanent.” T’Pol looked at Trip and read in his expression the same concerns and practical considerations she herself was contemplating. With an untold number of crew incapacitated or at best operating with reduced capacity, she knew that she would need to rely on the Second Officer. Apparently the Captain’s decision the previous day to test the Commander’s readiness to interact with alien species, had not completely restored his self-confidence, though he had obviously been aiding, rather than hindering, a successful first contact. His doubt was evident in his eyes, though his expression and demeanour was calm. However, she was confident that the Commander would perform admirably, and briefly considered if she would need to reinforce this point before sending him off with his orders. She saw the Doctor looking between them curiously out of the corner of her eye and so broke off her gaze.

“Work on an antidote and continue treating the symptoms of anyone who reports here.” Then she turned again to Tucker, noticing that he was standing straighter, a faint confidence hanging lightly in his frame. Perhaps her belief in his abilities had come through without her knowing it? Or perhaps he had realised that despite any misgivings he had to rise to the challenge as part of his duty as a senior officer? No matter the reason, part of her felt warmed at the sight. “We will need to convince the Felixians to leave.”

“They looked pretty cosy, and we don't know if they have a hidden agenda.” He considered for a moment. “Perhaps we could try to contain them to one area. It’d be easier to monitor them and keep them away from the crew until we can think of what to say to their Captain.” T’Pol agreed.

“The majority are currently in the Mess Hall with the Captain. I’ll mention moving them to a more, comfortable location.” He nodded.

“I suggest the Debriefing Room. I’ll monitor the crew and direct any stragglers there, with your approval.” The room was big enough to contain the twenty or so Felixians on board and near the docking port. Though she felt uneasy, she nodded in agreement.

“Make sure not to linger in their presence.” He nodded, something flashing in eyes before he turned to leave. Suddenly, she realised that she did not want to risk him being exposed to the alien’s possibly depressive agent. She didn’t want him to ever lose that spark in his eyes again.

But he was already gone.


	6. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End notes for warnings.

Ensign Mayweather sat at the helm, tapping his fingers on the console and bouncing his leg. He was bored out of his mind. What had promised to be an interesting day was so far a massive disappointment. Alien visitors touring the ship, what wasn’t there to be excited about? He was on beta shift so he’d taken lunch in the Mess Hall when the tour had ended and had spoken to some of the Felixians. They were very interested in talking to everyone and their strange habit of clapping enthusiastically every so often was quite amusing to watch. But soon after tucking into his tuna sandwhich, Travis had begun to feel anxious. Was he making a good impression? That one was staring at his mouth. Was there any food between his teeth? The hairs on his skin began to prickle and he became queasy. Quickly he’d excused himself and gone back to his room, trying to read a bit to take his mind off the sudden anxiety. After a while, he’d calmed and as he’d dressed for his shift, he’d felt like himself again. He’d had a few stirrings of worry on his way to the Bridge, but once at the helm he’d been fine again. As they were stationary, merely keeping level with the Felixian ship, there wasn’t really anything for him to do. He mostly chatted with another bored crewmember.

Just when he decided to run some simulations for evasive manoeuvres, two Felixians came up, accompanied by a crewman who didn’t follow them out, instead riding the lift down. Left to their own devices, the aliens ambled around the Bridge, asking everyone questions. Travis watched them, wondering if they should have a chaperone. Everyone here was on duty, but someone could leave for five minutes to take them back to their group. He didn’t say anything, as he didn’t know if they’d arranged to meet someone, like Ensign Davidson, who was talking to them now. He didn’t want to offend anyone, memories of the Kretessans making him cringe. Looking around, he saw everyone else was either watching them or deliberately not watching them, the mood dropping from bored normalcy to something else.

The longer they stayed, the more he grew worried about their presence. Exactly what interest did they have in the Bridge anyway? It wasn’t that exciting, especially since they were just staying still, coasting along. A sinking feeling started a whirlpool in his stomach, something was wrong here. The lift opened again, Travis looked around and was relieved to see Commander Tucker exiting. He resisted the urge to call him over, instead watching as he approached their guests.

“Hey fellas, hope you’re having a good time.”

“Oh yes Commander!” One of them piped up in eager response. “Mr Davidson here was just telling us about the comm system,” he turned to his companion, “it’s fascinating, isn’t it?” The other nodded energetically. Davidson looked exasperated, but didn’t say anything. Looking as if he was trying to smile but in fact grimacing, the Commander nodded at them.

“That’s great. Well, I just came up to tell you that everyone’s gathering in the Debriefing Room.”

“Debriefing Room? It sounds fun!” Without any further prompting, they headed for the lift. The Commander pressed the button for them, told them where to go once on the right floor and then stepped back out. After the door closed, he went over to the comms console and asked Ensign Davidson to monitor their progress down. The other crewmembers on the Bridge were starting to perk up again and taking notice of the Commander. He and Davidson watched the monitor until Davidson confirmed that they had entered the Debriefing Room. Letting out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, suddenly it became obvious to Travis. It was the Felixians! They had been causing his anxiety! He hadn’t even noticed it was reducing until it was gone, along with their visitors. Straightening, the Commander looked around the Bridge, catching the eye of everyone there. Then he said clearly to the room.

“Any of them wander up here again, or you see any of them anywhere, you ask them nicely to go back to the Debriefing Room. They refuse or give you trouble, you tell me or Sub-Commander T’Pol. Understand?” There were several ‘yessirs’ and nods all around. Satisfied with the response, he said. “As you were.” He then leaned over the console and addressed Davidson again, lowering his voice, though Travis could still hear him from his position. “Monitor their positions from here.” The helmsman tried not to show his satisfaction at working out the mystery as he listened further. Even though he didn’t know how, their alien guests were definitely causing some trouble if the Commander wanted them monitored.

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to try and get them off the ship, so unless they’re all moving to the docking port, you let me know if you see any of them wandering around.”

“Understood, sir.” Slapping the Ensign on the side of the arm, the Commander stood again and headed over to Travis, who tried to school his expression into polite interest. The Commander handed him a PADD.

“As soon as the Felixian ship is clear, head for these coordinates.” The helmsman nodded and looking up at his superior’s face, saw doubt in those usually clear eyes. Realising that his weakness had been spotted, Tucker coughed and blanked his expression. Travis said quietly, trying to convey reassurance and loyalty in three words.

“Of course, sir.” Tucker nodded in thanks and then he went down in the turbolift, leaving Travis to exchange theories with everyone else on what was really going on.

\-----

Trip Tucker berated himself for his lack of attention. It had been Rostov who had flagged the strange mood in the Engine Room. During the tour, he’d let Hess lead the talks. He’d ended up being the shadow and felt extra resentful of Hess’ new position before stamping down on it forcefully. He only had himself to blame, he deserved this. So wrapped up in his self-pity, he hadn’t noticed that the rest of his crew were also being affected. Hess especially was practically drooping, still talking with the Felixian engineer who had stayed after the tour group had moved on. Working quietly in a corner, Trip noticed Kelly arriving late for her shift. He went over and asked what had happened and she couldn’t tell him. She hadn’t had an excuse, nor an explanation. All she said was that she’d run into the Felixians on her way and must have lost track of time. Frowning, as tardiness had never been a problem for Kelly, the Commander had just told her not to make a habit of it and sent her to her duties.

Later, Carter had a minor accident. She’d been careless and picked up a plasma torch by the nozzle instead of the handle. Luckily it had been off for a few minutes so her burns were minimal. Ignoring the curious alien coming over to look, Tucker helped Johnson apply the emergency burn spray to Carter’s hand. When he asked her what had happened, Carter had seemed dazed. She didn’t have a coherent answer. Thinking she might be ill, he ordered Crewman Johnson to help her to Sick Bay, the churning in his gut intensifying. Though worried, he hadn’t made anything of the seemingly two unlinked events, simply wallowing in his dark mood.

Then Rostov had come back from repairing a conduit on E deck and had sidled up to Trip, making a semi-casual comment. That was all Trip needed to put together the pieces and kick himself into gear. He’d left Rostov in charge, telling him to keep an eye on everyone, including the alien, and marched off to Sick Bay. To his surprise, T'Pol had encouraged him to expand on his theory, praising him even. He had occasionally heard her big him up to an alien crew needing repairs, but this was different. It felt like a ray of sunshine piercing through dark clouds to light up spots on the cold earth. Then they’d heard Phlox’s evidence and come up with a plan. Adrenaline cut through the rest of the fog which had been plaguing his mind the last few weeks.

After leaving Sick Bay, he’d commed Rostov, pleased to hear that Rostov didn’t seem to be affected by the alien. He ordered Rostov to tell Hess to drop the Felixian off at the Debriefing Room immediately, recall everyone working in other parts of the ship and to keep an eye on everyone handling hot or dangerous machinery. Confident that he had covered his team with Rostov, Tucker called in at the Armoury, uneasily remembering Lieutenant Reed’s strange behaviour the night before. Thankfully, the tour of the armoury must have been brief as the mood was not noticeably affected. He’d briefly explained the situation, advising that Malcolm keep himself and his team away from their visitors. The Armoury Officer was eager to help confront the aliens, but Trip knew that T’Pol would be their best bet and too many other people could muddy the water. He patted his friend on the arm, telling him that containment and monitoring would be good enough. After shepharding the last two stragglers down from the Bridge and giving Travis instructions to move off as soon as they were clear, he met up with T’Pol outside the Debriefing Room.

“Any idea what to tell them?” She looked serene as always as she suggested.

“As they might take offence if we explain the real reason, I propose that we simply say that we must continue our mission and move off.” Not able to come up with anything better, Tucker agreed, though he frowned.

“And if they get hostile?”

“We retreat and assemble a security team. So far we have no reason to anticipate violence, their main weapon seems to be this pheromone. It is logical to attempt a peaceful resolution until we are presented with any evidence of hostility.” Feeling like the plan was incomplete, but unsure what exactly it was missing, he hesitated, hands wringing together. T’Pol noticed. “If there is something bothering you, you should tell me before we confront the Felixians.” He glanced at her before looking away and it suddenly became clear in his mind. He explained reluctantly.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I mostly jump into things. You could say that I’ve always been more a ‘man of action’, than a deep thinker. But ever since…you know.” He swallowed, still not looking at her. “I feel like I can’t trust my gut anymore. Maybe I never should have.”

“Whilst it would be advisable to consider more logical reasoning in your decision-making, you have demonstrated sound judgement when dealing with difficult situations with alien species in the past. As I have already stated to yourself and the Captain,” he looked up at her in surprise, “you have demonstrated a crude tact in various situations”. She turned her shoulders toward him slightly, adding, “also, your hypothesis was correct in this case.” She watched him absorb what she’d said, doubt lingering in his mind. Finally, he swallowed and nodded faintly. He was ready.

They entered the Debriefing Room. Looking around, Trip could see all of the Felixians sitting on the chairs and even some on the table, swinging their little legs and chirping in that way they had. The humans in the room: the Captain, Hoshi, a few of the science crewmen and cartographers, were sitting or leaning against the walls, quiet and supine. The conversations the Felixians were having seemed to be one-sided. He could feel the weight of sadness in the room dragging everything down. Suddenly it hit him all at once. It hadn’t nearly been this overwhelming on their ship, he thought underneath the gnawing despair. Maybe prolonged or repeated exposure increased the effects? _Or maybe you should just shut up, you useless-_ Through the viciousness in his own head he heard T’Pol address the aliens.

“Honoured guests, we are most grateful…” She paused as one of the Felixians jumped down from the table, brushing against her on his way to the side table where there was some water in a pitcher. T’Pol cleared her throat. “We are…We are most grateful for…” The Commander glanced at her and was dismayed to see her trembling slightly, her eyelids dropping. There was a long silence that the Felixians did not seem inclined to fill with words, trilling happily to themselves and watching her attentively. Feeling weaker himself, but determined to get rid of them, he whispered hoarsely.

“Sub-Commander?”  She looked at him helplessly, her throat working as she attempted to speak and eyes wide as she realised that she couldn’t. Terrified of what that implied, he knew he had no choice. Steeling himself as best as he could, he stepped forward.

“Honoured guests, we hope you’ve enjoyed your stay here, but I’m afraid...” His breath hitched as he forced himself through the growing despair. _They’ll never leave, it’s pointless, give up, give up._ “I’m afraid we must continue with our mission now and leave the system.” Their Captain piped up in a cajoling tone.

“Why, your entire crew is such fabulous company! Are you sure you must depart?” That voice, it almost felled him, but then he looked at the Captain’s sleeping form and felt a flash of self-inflicted pain. _Don’t you dare let him down again!_

“Y-yes. I’m sorry, if you would… return to your ship.”

“Well, to be honest we were thinking of staying a little longer.” _No, no please._ She wiggled a little in her seat as she went on, oblivious to the despair she was causing. “You humans are so accommodating and invigorating!” Desperate now, Trip spoke a little louder, trying to keep polite despite the volume.

“I’m sorry, we really must be going. Maybe we can come back this way, see you all again.” The Felixian Captain exchanged an inquisitive glance with her second in command who smiled sunnily. After a moment, she looked at Archer and leaned in.

“Captain? Can we stay?” Seeing the way his Captain’s expression crumpled at the proximity of the Felixian, Trip panicked and said hurriedly.

“Captain Sheesh’an. I’m afraid the Captain needs to rest now. He is very tired.” He stepped forward. “It’s been a very exciting day for our entire crew, we’ve loved your visit. But now they need to sleep.” At his words, the alien Captain finally looked around the room at the humans, as if noticing for the first time that most of them seemed about to drop off or were staring into space.

Finally, miraculously, she conceded and asked.

“Now?” His throat closed up, he could only jerk his head forward, dimly wondering if nodding was an affirmative gesture in their culture. Thankfully it was, or they’d simply decided to leave, as they began rising, turning to thank with the limp and half-asleep humans strewn around the room. Forcing his dead legs forwards, he led them to the airlock, managing to twitch his lips whenever they addressed him, letting their chatter wash over him. Just a bit further, down another corridor, almost there…Eventually they reached the airlock and he opened the door, barely registering their parting words. They did that clapping thing, not seeming to mind that he did not reciprocate and then their Captain took one of his hands in between hers. He instantly fell to his knees. Paralysed, mind fizzing with white noise, he could only kneel. Now closer to the Felixian's height, he heard her words as clear if his own mind were speaking them.

“Don’t worry Commander, we have this effect on everyone we meet, we’re not offended.” She smiled and his head started to hurt. “Thank you for indulging us, and safe travels to the new day.” Her crew called happily from behind her.

“To the new day!”

Then she let him go and joined her crew in the airlock. The door closed behind them, the light blinking and he fell forwards onto his hands, panting against the pain in his head. Vaguely, he could feel the trembling of the docking clamps as they disengaged. His fingers curled slightly, pressing hard against the floor as he waited for the wave of pain to abate. His gut roiled and his limbs fizzed and his head throbbed. Finally, he could move again. With considerable effort, he crawled to the wall and lifted himself up enough to tap the comm, managing to choke out some intelligible words.

“Davids’n? They… gone?”

“Yes Commander, I am not reading any Felixian biosigns on board.” Glancing through the porthole, he could see space through the porthole on the outer door. Their ship had moved off at least. They were safe. Gulping, still feeling weak, he tapped the comm again.

“Tuck’r t’ T’Pol.” As he waited for her to respond, he registered that his hands were trembling and that his face was sticky with drying tears. When had he been crying?

“Go ahead.” Her voice sounded like it was far away, even though his ear was right next to the comm.

“They’re… gone. Are you… alright? Can you…take command until…?” Suddenly, he found speaking beyond him, exhaustion dragging all points of his body down to the floor. He was leaning entirely against the wall now, listing to the side, eyes half-closed as he listened, holding on until…

“I am fine Commander. And yourself?” That was it. He’d done his duty. He’d removed the threat. The crew would be fine now; Phlox would sort them out. T’Pol would lead them until the Captain was back on his feet. Everything was fine. He was done.

“No.” It was like relief, saying it. “No.” He swallowed and used the last of his strength to open the airlock, speaking over whatever T’Pol was saying. “Thanks, T’Pol, f’r everyth’n.”

Then he stumbled in and the door closed, leaving the corridor empty.

\---

Vulcans do not panic. They react quickly and decisively in emergency situations. T’Pol sprinted down the corridors, swerving around corners with a brutal efficiency of movement. She did not contemplate what she’d see when she reached the airlock, nor linger on the force of emotion she’d experienced when Ensign Davidson had commed from the bridge, reporting that the airlock had been reopened. She focused solely on reaching it as quickly as possible. Finally, she turned the corner and saw the door. She punched in the door release and slipped in as soon as it began to open. Trip was sitting slumped against the wall near the far side, obviously having collapsed on the way to it. His breathing was laboured despite the fact that the compartment had not begun to depressurize. Without hesitating she stalked over, hooked her arms under his and started to drag him out.

“No.” He moaned, struggling weakly against her as he realised what was happening. “No, please.” She ignored him, laying him out in the corridor and standing up, punching the door closed again. Allowing her heart rate to return to normal, she turned and looked down at him. He was curling up on his side, murmuring lowly. She knelt down so she could help him up, but hearing his words made her pause.

“I let him down.” She almost frowned, unable to discern his meaning. “After all he’s done for me…I failed him.”

“You did not fail anyone.” Trip didn't seem to register her presence or her words, still rambling harsh self-recriminations.

“I shouldn’t be out here. I can’t…I just keep fucking up, I’m too stupid-” Fighting her own distress in response to the Commander’s actions, she interrupted.

“That is demonstrably untrue, Commander. You are merely experiencing the effects of exposure to the Felixians, these feelings will go away.” There was a pause and then, voice hoarse and quiet, Trip confessed.

“It’s not the Felixians T’Pol. I…I always feel like this.” She found that she had no response so such a raw statement, she could only look down at him mutely. He sobbed and whispered, eyes glazed and unfocused. “Every day I wake up and I think, what’s the point? What the hell am I still doing here?”  Fresh tears ran down his face and his whole body shaking. Once again not succeeding with logic, a common occurrence with her human friends, she considered a more emotional approach. Hesitantly, gently, she laid a hand on his shoulder.

“You need to rest. Come to Sick Bay.” But her efforts were in vain. He didn’t seem to hear her, still trembling as he went on.

“They’re gone. You don’t need me anymore.” This could not continue, she thought to herself fiercely. The Commander’s false view of himself could not be tolerated and this urged her to say strongly.

“Of course we still need you, we will always need you.” He was shaking his head, about to speak again when a stern voice came from the corner.

“Sub-Commander.” Both of the figures on the floor stiffened. “You’re needed on the Bridge to coordinate the crew’s recovery.” The Sub-Commander didn’t move, addressing the Captain as if it was perfectly normal to be speaking to him from the floor, half-cradling a crewmember.

“By Phlox’s estimation the majority of the crew’s chemical balance should return to normal within the hour.” The Captain looked at her and despite his weakened condition, his hard gaze didn’t waver. She went on. “The Commander needs medical attention.”

“I’ll escort him to Sick Bay. You have your duty.” Reluctantly the Sub-Commander nodded, released the chief engineer and rose. As she passed him, Archer grabbed her arm. “You’re in command until Phlox clears me for duty.” He let her go and she went without looking back, telling herself that she was under control.

\---

Phlox looked up at the sound of the door opening. He was both relieved and concerned to see Captain Archer supporting Commander Tucker into Sick Bay. He took the Commander’s other side and together they manoeuvred him onto a bio bed. The human was trembling slightly, his eyes red and wet. He avoided their gaze, but otherwise seemed aware of his surroundings. Panting, the Captain leant against the closest bio bed to rest for a moment. Phlox retrieved a scanner from the side and examined his newest patient. As with the others, he noted the chemical imbalance but in addition to the usual symptoms, the Commander’s skin was cool and his pulse rapid. He seemed to be experiencing mild shock. Frowning, the doctor said quietly.

“Commander, can you follow my finger?” Blinking, the Commander focused on the finger and tried to follow it as Phlox moved it. The Doctor frowned as his patient lost focus twice, physically his eyes seemed up to the task but evidently his brain wasn’t quite there.

“I’m going to need to take some more detailed scans.” He gestured to the bio scanner. “Can you stand?” Though it seemed to take a lot of effort, the Commander managed to stand unaided and stagger over to the scanner. Archer helped him up onto the bed, but neither looked each other in the eye. Phlox pushed the buttons and kept an eye on the readings… and the Captain.

“And how are you feeling, Captain?” He enquired softly as he monitored the scans. The Captain huffed, having mostly recovered his breath, though the doctor noticed that his eyes were bloodshot.

“I’ll be alright, Doctor.” Humming to himself, Phlox hit the controls and slid his patient out.

“It seems that you suffered a heftier dose of this pheromone, Commander.” Archer tensed at his words. “But the scans show that the balance is realigning itself, albeit slowly.” Smiling gently, he addressed the Captain as much as Tucker when he concluded. “Now I don't want to give you or any other member of the crew anything, as that might hinder, rather than help with the brain's process of restoring the balance to equilibrium. With a few days of rest, you should be just fine.” Tucker murmured.

“Thanks Doc.” Frowning, Archer asked.

“Are you sure that there won’t be any permanent effects?”

“Well at this point there is no reason to assume so.” He looked between the two. “Of course I’ll take follow up scans to check on the progress so we’ll be able to see if there are any lingering effects.” Archer cleared his throat, clearly fishing for some specific information.

"So we won't ever...feel like this after the...balance is restored." Studying the Captain's face for a long moment, Phlox knew he wouldn't get the true purpose out of him, not in front of the others in the room. Though he had a strong suspicion that when the Captain said 'we' he meant 'Commander Tucker'. Phlox said carefully.

"The pheromone artificially induced a flux in negative emotions. Whilst the crew's brains should all return to baseline, they will still have the capacity for intense emotions. It just won't be the fault of the Felixians." Accepting his answer, Archer nodded and seeing no further questions, the Doctor raised his scanner on the Captain, smile growing as he read the results.

“Ah, the same for you Captain, a few days’ good rest and you’ll be as good as new.”

“When can I go back on duty?”

“How about you see me tomorrow morning and we’ll reassess then? Until then, strictly no business. Just rest!” Archer agreed and Phlox went back to Ensign Carter. He’d kept her for observation as he’d determined her accident had been linked to the Felixians’ unique effect. He pulled back the bandages to see how the burns were progressing.

Behind him, Archer looked back to his Second Officer who was now sitting up and clumsily wiping his face with his sleeve. Before long he looked away, asking hoarsely, just loud enough for Phlox to overhear.

“How long?” Obviously understanding his meaning, the Commander admitted quietly.

“Since you told me.” Taking some deep breaths, the Captain stepped closer voice lowering so Phlox couldn’t make out the words. Whatever he said, Tucker agreed, his nods slow and tired but deliberate. He replied equally quietly, Phlox just making out the words 'thinkin' straight', 'again' and 'promise'. Archer reached out and squeezed Tucker’s forearm before stepping back, saying in a normal tone.

“You do whatever Phlox tells you, alright?”

“Yes, sir.” The Captain went on, his expression of frustration belying how inadequate a job he felt he was doing.

“Take the day off tomorrow, get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.” Exchanging a concerned look with Ensign Carter, who had evidently also overheard, Phlox said loudly.

“Your burns are almost gone Ensign, you can return to your quarters now. But come back in the morning before I clear you for duty.”

“Yes, Doctor.” As Phlox had been speaking, the Captain had come over.

“Alright, Ensign?” She smiled nervously.

“I will be, sir. Thank you.” His usual reassuring smile for the crew absent, the Captain nodded and asked in a forced-casual tone.

“If you’re on your way out, would you take the Commander back to his quarters? Make sure he doesn’t get lost and end up in Engineering?” Carter agreed and Phlox stepped back so she could get off the bio bed. Phlox and the Captain watched as she approached her senior officer, concern and tentativeness etched into her frame.

“Hey boss, let me help you up there.” If the Commander had overheard the Captain’s request, he didn’t acknowledge it. He looked up as Carter spoke, frowning as if trying to place her. But then his face cleared in understanding and he shuffled off the bed, wobbling slightly as his feet hit the floor. Carter put an arm around his waist and together they slowly left Sick Bay. After they’d gone, Phlox turned to the Captain and saw to his dismay an intense expression set in that weary face. Whilst the doctor had yet to study and identify all the intricate human emotions, he could see a mixture of regret and sadness there. And something else. Fear? He was certain that the Captain’s emotions were being heightened because of the Felixian pheromone, but it was obvious that they had already been there. Before he could say anything, however, Archer came out of his trance, thanked him and left. Darkly, Phlox wondered if the Captain had been deliberately waiting for his friend to have cleared the area before leaving himself. Well, the doctor thought to himself, he’d just have to monitor that particular situation closely.

\-----

Lieutenant Reed marched out of the turbolift and onto the Bridge, barely taking in his surroundings, lost in thought. He was busy berating himself for not making the obvious connection between the aliens’ presence and the strange mood which had come over himself and the others. He had been down-right mortified when he’d woken that morning. Memories of his breakdown assaulting him in waves as he struggled to prepare for the day. He had been dreading coming face to face with the engineer. Whilst he was a little concerned that Trip might tease him about his teary outburst, he was mostly worried about his own embarrassment. Not only had he displayed an unacceptable display of emotion to a superior officer whilst on duty, albeit the man was a friend, he had been unloading on the very person he’d been intending to comfort himself! The irony was not lost on him, just adding salt to the wound.

Pulling himself together, he went down to the Situation Room and glanced around at the other occupants. There was T’Pol, Ensign Mayweather, Crewman Rostov, Ensign Davidson and Ensign Cutler. He refrained from showing his puzzlement at this assortment of people, instead listening intently to the Sub-Commander as she began to explain.

“As some of you are aware, it was discovered that the Felixians’ presence on board was having a depressive effect on the crew. We believe they emitted a defensive pheromone designed to slow the reactions of potential predators, this temporarily affected the brain chemistry of the crewmembers who came into prolonged contact with them. Thanks to Commander Tucker, the Felixians have been vacated from the ship and according to Doctor Phlox, the crew should recover without any permanent injury.” She looked around at the group assessingly before continuing. “Whilst the Captain is recovering, I am in command. You are the most senior officers of each department who have not been affected. Our priority now is to identify any crew members who may require medical attention and treat them. Assess everyone in your section and send those in need of treatment to Sickbay. Ensign Cutler will give you a list of symptoms to look out for. I expect a list of crewmembers who are sent to the doctor within the hour. From then we will be able to work out the next few shift patterns.” Despite their differing reactions to the news, everyone nodded. Ensign Cutler read out the list of symptoms and T’Pol asked if there were any questions. Rostov asked.

“How exactly was our brain chemistry affected?” Ensign Cutler briefly explained, Malcolm half way between bristling and being ill at the thought of the Felixians’ having that much control over them. Then Travis asked.

“How did the Commander get the aliens off the ship?” If she was annoyed by the question – which was irrelevant to their current objective – the Sub-Commander did not show it. She merely answered simplistically.

“He asked them politely.” Malcolm stifled a huff, considering if the Vulcan was being deliberately obtuse. Travis insisted tentatively, shoulders tense.

“I mean, how did he get close enough to them without being affected?” Malcolm frowned, pondering the dual questions. How had Trip done it? And why was Travis so intent on finding out why? Malcolm had the extra knowledge of noting Trip’s lack of reaction to the aliens at dinner. How had Trip resisted the depressive effects when others, who some would say were more emotionally controlled, had not? Maybe he was genetically immune? Or his natural sunny temperament had protected him? Though he certainly hadn't been his usual happy self lately. The Lieutenant thought he saw something on the Vulcan’s face before she stated plainly.

“The Commander was affected, but he managed to guide the Felixian Captain and her crewmembers off the ship before collapsing.” Malcolm blurted out before he could even think, a vague anger at not being told this information sooner partly driving the outburst.

“He collapsed? Is he alright?” He saw Davison and Travis exchange a look on the other side of T'Pol, who narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Phlox says he’ll be fine.” The Captain’s voice croaked from behind them. Everyone jumped to attention, but he motioned for them to relax. He was still in uniform, but something about his stance screamed that he was not ‘in command’. “Bit shaken up, but he’ll recover, same as everyone else.” T’Pol said in that blunt way she had.

“Captain, I didn’t know Phlox had cleared you for duty.” Archer forced a smile.

“He hasn’t, but I was wondering if I could have a word? If you’re done here?” T’Pol considered him for a moment before addressing the gathered crew.

“Dismissed.” Everyone nodded and left, despite the curious glances burning into the two most senior officers. Malcolm turned to leave with the rest, but the lingering anger at the whole situation with his friend compelled him to say discretely.

“Pardon Captain, Sub-Commander, I just wanted to voice some concerns about Commander Tucker, and the effect these Felixians had on him.” The Sub-Commander looked as if she were about to deny his request, but the Captain nodded, looking around to see if they could be overheard.

“Go ahead.” Pursing his lips, telling himself to remember who exactly he would be speaking to so as not to slip into insubordination, Lieutenant Reed straightened and plunged.

“The Commander hasn’t mentioned anything, but it is plain that something has been troubling him. Something before the Felixian's came aboard.”

“I know, Malcolm.” Archer sighed and his eyes squinted in discomfort for a moment, clearing thinking about something. When he didn’t say anything else, Reed risked more.

“Whilst I’m not aware of the exact details, I believe that Trip would benefit from-” he stopped at a warning look from his Captain. But then Archer softened his gaze. Breathing in deeply, he looked between the two of them and said meaningfully.

“Thank you for your concern Malcolm, I’m sure Trip appreciates it. But I’ll talk to him.” T’Pol held his gaze before inclining her head in approval. Also satisfied for the moment, the Lieutenant nodded to his superiors before heading back to the Armoury. He would keep on his own monitoring of the situation, however. Perhaps he would start by finding out what Travis knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicide attempt: Trip gets a super dose of the pheromone and tries to commit suicide in the airlock. He collapses before he can start depressurising it and is soon rescued, but the intention is there.
> 
> Also, I know that depression isn’t just caused by an imbalance of chemicals in the brain but I’m basically just borrowing science-y terms to fit the plot so yeah. I worried a lot over finding a motive/goal for the Felixians, then realised that their motives didn’t have to make sense in human terms. Thus they remain mysterious and weird.
> 
> Just one more chapter to go! Working title: 'Jon gets his act together'


	7. A Good Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A good friend understands your past, believes in your future and accepts you just the way you are." Bernard Meltzer

Jon could still remember the first time he met Trip Tucker. Well, the first time he noticed meeting him anyway. It was perfectly possible that he’d walked passed him in the corridors, or exchanged greetings with him when Jon hung around annoying Captain Jefferies with questions and suggestions. Now, it was hard to believe that there could have been a time when he wouldn’t have taken notice of that distinctive voice or expressive face. But the first time he truly saw Trip, he was still reeling from the failure of the Warp 2 test, anger at AG warring with fear of the decisions from on-high. He was coming up against the thick Vulcan walls of obstruction and judgement, as he always did, when a voice piped up from across the room. An engineer came out of the other prototype to defend his father’s engines, a sound technical and logical argument crashing against the walls around them, eroding them as relentlessly as the ocean. The Lieutenant spoke with passion, his words only softened by his Southern drawl. He’d quickly been chastised, but Jon could see that he was only muted by the reprimand, not beaten down. Jon knew that this man was a fighter and he felt glad that there were still people fighting for Humanity to reach the stars sooner rather than later.

Over the years, that estimation of Trip’s character had proven correct. Time and time again, he’d seen the young man suffer set-backs, both in the Warp program and in his personal life. Failed test runs and break ups both being met with the same passionate but same pragmatic approach. Trip always powered through, working at something until he’d solved it, found a way around it, or accepted it and moved passed it. The fact that Trip grumbled and sulked through the process had little bearing on the eventual, inevitable success. Jon didn’t think he’d ever known anyone to feel so deeply and yet so productively. His passions didn’t detract from his work, they enhanced it, they drove him, the positive and the negative. Trip was always in motion, sometimes he slipped backwards, but mostly, he was going onwards, forging ahead with all the might of a true trailblazer. That was perhaps the thing Jon admired most in his friend.

A close second was his warmth. Almost everything about him, from his voice, his manner, his laughter, to his physical body itself, radiated a comforting heat. He could annoy with his teasing, frustrate them with his stubbornness, exasperate them with his out-spoken manner or terrify them with his recklessness. Mostly though, Trip just made people happy; by being funny, by being friendly and happy to see them, by just being there. To Jon, he was a lit hearth in the cold, a comforting presence and a joking voice when the rest of the world was crashing down. Whenever Jon looked for him, and even when Jon wasn’t looking, Trip was always there.

Waking up the morning after the Felixian’s departure, Jon was glad that he’d held off on trying to mend any bridges. He felt refreshed and much more emotionally steady than he had when he’d collapsed into bed the night before. It disturbed him to remember how he’d been walking through a fog most of the day before, everything feeling remote and fuzzy. He’d had a hard time recalling exact words said whilst in the presence of the Felixians, though bits and pieces came back to him. He vaguely remembered T’Pol and Trip trying to urge their guests to leave but couldn’t focus on any specific details. He'd only started getting his head on straight after they'd left the room, before his world had been plunged into cold terror at the scene at the airlock. Shaking himself, he thought it best to try and forget the sensation of helplessness and weakness and fear.

He did, however, regret not mentioning the incident at the airlock to Phlox. He’d reported to Sick Bay late in the morning to go through the motions of being cleared for duty but had been met with a coldly furious physician, who had given him a stern yet scathing lecture on the proper protocols for mental health issues among the crew. Apparently, his Second Officer had gone to Sick Bay earlier and voiced his concerns over his capacity to return to work. After a lot of coaxing, he had finally revealed that he’d contemplated suicide and was worried that the thoughts might resurface and prevent him from fulfilling his duties. Phlox had completed a psychoanalysis of Tucker’s current mental state and had found him fit for duty. He’d made a note to Tucker’s medical file to include certain check-ups and future precautions, but otherwise had told the Commander that with sufficient vigilance on all their parts, he saw no reason for him to continue serving in his current position.

Although Phlox accepted Tucker’s right to privacy and the Captain’s decision not to disclose the incident, he had a lot of choice words to say about the decision not to take any precautionary measures that evening. A crewmember who had just attempted a suicidal act, under the influence of alien pheromones or not, should not have been left unattended until their doctor had judged them no longer a danger to themselves. Whilst Phlox hadn’t judged the levels of imbalance of chemicals in Tucker’s brain to be overtly harmful, he hadn’t had possession of all of the facts. If he’d have known, his recommendation would have been very different, as he told the Captain several times during his rant. Archer’s assurances that he’d judged Tucker’s suicidal urge to have passed were huffed at and ignored.

Of course, in the light of day, and feeling more like himself, Jon couldn’t believe he’d just let Trip go back to his quarters and spend the night unattended. At the time, he’d been sure that the terribleness had been over, his friend’s promise enough to secure that certainty in his mind. Or maybe he’d just been too exhausted to think about it further. But now he saw that it had been a reckless decision. Phlox did concede that the Captain’s judgment had likely been impaired by his own exposure to the Felixians and their effect on him. Whilst calming down, the doctor admitted that perhaps he had released the pair of them too soon. Especially as he had known himself that the Commander had been struggling with recent emotional trauma.

After he’d run out of steam, Phlox had cleared the Captain for light duties and proposed updated protocols and training sessions for all senior officers in how to handle situations in which fellow crewmembers or they themselves, were compromised. Agreeing quickly in order to be let out, Jon just hoped Phlox wouldn’t mention his idea to Reed. Then he’d really have an obsessively detailed program pushed on him. Then again, thinking about what had almost happened, it was probably in everyone’s best interest that such a monstrosity was born. Reluctantly, he headed for the Armoury.

\----

Light duty he was cleared for, in other words, paperwork. Captain Archer had tried, but the reports and charts couldn’t distract him from the ringing in his ears from the prolonged scolding, the eager light in his Armoury Officer’s eyes at the idea of another protocol he could design. Nor from reliving that terrible moment he’d fought through the fog to recognise that his First Officer had bolted from the Debriefing Room. Marvelling at how rare it was for him to see her running had led to him realising the reason for her haste. He’d hurried after her as best he could and come upon his best friend, shaking and crying and clearly at the end of his rope. It was a scene that would be forever burned into his mind.

_When they were alone, Jon staggered over and half-collapsed next to his prone friend. Heedless of any tact or logical thought, Jon had demanded desperately._

_“Promise me you won’t ever do that again!” He was resisting the urge to shake Trip, hard. Fists curling to channel the anger away from his shaken friend as he stared expectantly._

_“Cap’n…” Trip said slowly. Jon felt hot tears on his own face, his throat tightening, almost choking him. Distressed and overwhelmed, his friend met his gaze. “’m sorry I…I don’t know what I was doin’.” He winced, stumbling through an explanation as if working it all out himself as he spoke. “My head…it… When she…when Sheesh’an touched me, it hurt like hell.” Jon knew he had to get his friend to Sick Bay but he couldn’t let the moment pass without some certainty, some balm to sooth the panic still tearing at his heart. He gave in to his fear and took hold of his friend’s shoulders._

_“Promise me, Trip, please promise me!”_

_“I… I promise, I won’t…” Trip gulped and then said firmly, eyes clear for the first time since he’d walked into the Debriefing room. “I won’t.” Calmed, though his stomach was still churning, Jon had pulled them both up and forced them to Sick Bay._

He wasn’t joking when he’d said to Lieutenant Reed that winning a Tucker’s loyalty earned you a lifelong gift. Bitterness coated his tongue as he realised that despite how he’d acted lately, he still had that loyalty. That because of how he’d acted lately, he’d almost lost it. Almost let his friend believe that his loyalty wasn’t worth giving anymore, that Jon would be better off without it, without him.  

Heart crushing itself, he thought about his friend’s sobbing self-reprimands, torturing himself with the idea that he’d failed Jon. Giving up because of it. Trip had never given up, never once in the decade he’d known him. And yet when he’d thought that he’d lost Jon’s trust, he hadn’t been able to face it. It had halted him in his tracks, his energy and drive turning inwards and tearing him apart. The Felixians’ influence had been the catalyst for that terrible decision, but not, Jon thought to himself, the cause.

That worried Jon. It was one of the many things chaining his mind to the murky depths. If he did anything, Jon would have to let Trip know that the loyalty went both ways. Unconditionally, for as long as Jon could give it. And even if the worst happened and they went their separate ways, in whatever form that would take, Trip could not give up on everything else. He would have to make sure that his friend truly believed that. Make sure he believed in his own self-worth beyond his ability to please Jonathan Archer.

Cursing himself, he could admit that he’d been trying to overcompensate on past favouritism. He’d been trying to be the Captain first and in doing so had completely abandoned his role as friend. The whole incident had made him question his past decisions and he’d thought that his indulgence when it came to Trip had lead them to this very situation. He blamed himself, seeing a pattern in his own behaviour as an enabler. But then he’d come up with so many examples of his own impulsive actions, his own desire to help superseding caution and balanced decision-making. He knew that the example he'd led had been a poor one. Further, his own complicated feelings over the entire incident itself hadn’t helped how he’d handled it all. But that was no excuse. None of it was. Essentially, he had punished his friend for his own failings.

He had to fix it, if he still could.

\---

Hoshi woke up to the sound of her door comm chirping. She was groggy and it took her a few seconds to remember what the sound meant. Snapping into action when it clicked, she stumbled over, pulling on a dressing gown and answered. Ensign Cutler was on the other side, taking in the Ensign’s dress and blushing.

“Ah, sorry, I woke you.”

“No, it’s okay, is something wrong?”

“No. We’re just checking on everyone who were most affected by our ‘visitors’.” Awkwardly, Hoshi gestured to her cabin.

“Oh okay. So, do you want to come in?”

“Thanks. I just need a sec.” Stepping in, Cutler pulled out a hand scanner and began moving it around the Ensign’s head.

“Shouldn’t Doctor Phlox be doing that?” Hoshi stood still, eyeing the scanner.

“Don’t worry, the Doc taught me how to use this. He has a lot of people to see.” She finished the scans and read them. Then she looked up. “Your chemical balance is almost back to baseline.” She lowered the device. “How do you feel?” Hoshi thought for a moment.

“A lot better. I’m still a bit tired but, otherwise fine.” Cutler smiled and made to leave. Suddenly, Hoshi remembered a brief conversation with Malcolm the day before. “How’s the Commander? I heard yesterday that he…” Cutler shrugged.

“The doctor saw him this morning, I think he’ll be fine.” Sighing in relief, Hoshi smiled tiredly.

“Think he’d be up to visitors?” Cutler looked at her a little oddly, causing Hoshi to suppress an exasperated sigh. This crew! “I just want to see for myself. Lieutenant Reed…he made it sound bad.” Either dismissing her speculation or ignoring it, Cutler said.

“Well, Phlox didn’t say anything against it. Should be okay.” Hoshi saw Cutler off and then dressed quickly. She went up to B Deck and stood outside the Commander’s door for a minute, trying not to think about the last time she was there. Breathing in deeply, she pressed the comm.

“Come in.” She entered and stopped in the doorway. Sub-Commander T’Pol stared back at her. Trip was sitting on the bed and looked between them, a sparkle of something in his eye. Recovering, Hoshi greeted T’Pol politely.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to…” T’Pol looked like she was repressing a strong emotion, though her facial expression didn’t change. She said simply.

“It’s alright Ensign, I was just leaving.” Nodding and moving out of the way, Hoshi almost missed Trip’s murmur.

“You sure you’re alright?” The Sub-Commander stopped and looked down at him. Then she said quietly.

“I am fine, Commander.” She glanced at Hoshi before saying. “2130.” He nodded and she left. There was an extended pause. Then Trip sighed.

“First off: no, it’s not what you think.” Glad he was broaching it, and there was some of his familiar warmth, Hoshi rejoined mock-casually.

“I’m not thinking anything.” Amusement flickered through his eyes before he asked seriously.

“How are you holding up?” Trying to keep up the humour, she countered.

“I was about to ask you that.” His lips twitched.

“Well, I asked first.” She crossed her arms and answered truthfully.

“I’m still a little shaky but otherwise fine. You?” Repaying her honesty, he said quietly.

“Getting there, I think.” There was a lot she wanted to say, but aware of hidden mines, she settled on.

“To think, I thought they were cute!” He considered and offered.

“They kinda were. Cute and depressing.”

“Think that’s what’ll go in the official log? Felixians: cute and depressing.” He barked a laugh and it startled her before she laughed herself, tension leaking out of her.

“I read some of that story.” It took her a moment to remember what he was referring to. Her heart lifted and she asked.

“Oh yeah? How is it?”

“It’s called: ‘Sister Sits in Three Trees’.” He drawled confidently and then conceded. “That’s as far as I got.” She giggled.

“It sounds like it’s going to be good.” He nodded and smiled, tired but warm.

“Yeah, I think so too.” Hoshi leaned back, feeling a lot better.

"How's the Captain? He was with the aliens for the longest, wasn't he?" Lips twitching down and eyes darting away, Trip said quietly.

"I don't know, haven't spoken to him today." 

"Well, Phlox would have said something yesterday, if he'd been worried. Right?" Trip nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. He always is." He hooked a shoulder in her direction. "Specially with his crew to look after him." Hoshi smiled again, thinking that the same could be said for Trip. If he'd let them. Well, Malcolm had told her that the Captain was going to talk to his friend. The Captain was a man of his word. She was sure that they'd look after each other.

\---

Mid-afternoon and Jon commed Trip in his quarters, pleased that the engineer hadn’t sneaked back on duty. He invited him to dinner and a water polo match viewing with him that evening. There had been a noticeable pause.

“Cap’n, I’m sorry. I’m not feeling too hot. I think I’ll have to pass.”

“Come on, I had chef make steak and mashed potatoes, all special.” He tried to keep his voice normal and not desperate as he went on. “Please, for me.” Although he didn’t like using it, that card worked and his friend gave in. Jon signed off and sighed to himself. He had agreed and that was all that mattered.

Still feeling anxious, Jon went to discuss the previous day’s events with T’Pol, figuring she could help him draft the report to Starfleet. Or maybe she could write it, as it had turned out that he hadn’t done much. He felt a hot bar of shame around his heart at the idea of being a useless lump needing to be saved. There was pride at his officer’s achievements, but also the shame. She was as concise and straightforward as always, passing no judgement on any of the crew’s actions or in-action. For which he was very thankful.

 

Jon returned to his quarters and paced until he heard his door chime. It was Trip, for dinner.  _Come on Jon, you can do this._

Trip had obviously used up all his reserves of energy, because he made no visible effort to act normally. He answered questions when asked and spoke when prompted, but the words were flat and sometimes he trailed off mid-sentence. They ate quickly and with little talking. Trip was so visibly exhausted, eating mechanically and without any enjoyment, that Jon almost put off the ‘talk’. But considering how terrible he felt, he could only imagine how his friend was suffering and was desperate to ease some of that pain as soon as possible. He just had to work himself up to it. 

After dinner, they watched the match in uncomfortable silence, Trip not once taking any popcorn or looking away from the screen. Occasionally Jonathan would make a comment and his old friend would maybe nod or grunt in agreement, but never turn his head and smile. Desperately, Jonathan wanted to see that smile. Eventually the match ended and the screen went black. Jonathan watched Trip, waiting for him to notice. It took a good few minutes before Trip lifted out of his internal fog and looked around.

“Sorry. I was miles away.” Doubting it but hoping anyway, Jon asked.

“Anywhere good?” Gulping, his friend shook his head, before lifting his chin a little, still looking at the bulkhead in front of him. There was the slightest hint of a bite in his voice as he said.

“I did warn you that I’m not very good company right now.” Encouraged by the emotion, taking it over that horrible blankness he’d seen lurking in his friend’s gaze, Jon decided to start. He wasn’t sure if his vague plan would work. But he’d do his best.

“After the Paragaan colony was destroyed and all those people were killed, I couldn’t sleep for weeks.” If he was confused by the sudden change in topic or deep confession, Trip didn’t show it. Instead he fixed his eyes on Jon’s and said immediately, confidently.

“That wasn’t your fault, sir.”

“Off duty, remember?” Trip flashed him a weak smile, looking down again. Taking that as a positive development, Jon went on. “Doesn’t matter if it was or it wasn’t. That didn’t change how I felt.” Watching his friend shift uneasily, Jon could tell that he was trying to find some way to comfort him, something to say, something to do. It was almost amusing to watch Trip struggle with the same thing he’d been wrestling with since the whole Cogenitor incident. But most of all, it just made Jon feel even more terrible. Here was a man who was going through Hell and the thing that pulls him out of it, however temporarily, is his desire to comfort someone else.

“You’re a good man, Jon. It wouldn’t affect you like this if you weren’t.” Feeling his throat tighten at such conviction, such belief in his character, Jon could admit to himself that he might be a good man, as Trip believed, but he hadn’t been a very good friend. He placed a hand on Trip’s shoulder and tried not to let the other man’s flinch hurt him.

“I could say the same about you.” To his dismay, he saw Trip’s eyes begin to water as he shook his head. Knowing that sometimes words weren’t enough, he gave in to instinct and pulled his friend closer, engulfing him in a long-overdue embrace. At first, Trip stayed perfectly still, body tense. But then, some tension began to leech out and Jon closed his eyes as he felt Trip give in and begin to sob quietly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I wasn’t thinking straight.” Jon doubted he’d ever forget the thrill of terror that had raced through him as he’d realised his friend had shut himself in that airlock. But the admission had lifted some of the lingering fear in his mind.

“I know.” There was so much they had to say, but first things first. “Even with those people messing with all our minds, you managed to get them out. You saved all our lives yesterday.” Trip’s head rubbed against Jon’s shoulder as he murmured.

“No. Not really.” Despite himself, Jon barked a laugh.

“Not really?”

“Well, maybe a little. T’Pol helped.” Delighting in the small, playful tone, Jon squeezed his friend once more and then pulled back. Trip leaned back too, sniffing and wiping his face. He could still feel the tension between them, the smog of hurt and shame still hanging in the air. But it had lightened considerably. Now it was time to dispel it entirely.

“I know I said that you were reckless, impulsive… That’s true sometimes.” Disturbed that his friend didn’t even react to his words he went on hurriedly. “But I need you to know that I do still trust your judgement. I’m not sure what I’d do without you out here.” Pulling on a fraying thread from his T-shirt, Trip said quietly.

“Captain, she’s dead because of me.” Jon’s heart squeezed and he said definitively.

“No, that’s not true.”

“You agreed with me at the time.”

“I was wrong.” He sighed heavily. “I was angry and…feeling guilty. I should never have said that.” He looked up at Trip, wishing his friend would look at him. “I hope you can forgive me.” Trip swallowed.

“You’re just saying this now cos you think I…might…” He gestured with his hand, a vague pattern that meant nothing without the context of the events of the day before. Jon began slowly, feeling his way through the topic like a blind man.

“T’Pol said the Felixian touched you and that...exacerbated the effect of their pheromones.” Pulling the truth out as gently as possible, Jon croaked. “To be honest I can’t, I can’t even think about what I’d do if...”

“Jon.” Trip met his eyes and Jon was relieved to see that familiar strength there. A certainty and warmth he’d grown used to, grown to rely on. “I won’t deny that the thought never crossed my mind but, it was always just that, an idea.” Jon believed him, telling himself he wasn’t seeing what he wanted to see.

“You tell me the second it becomes any more than that. Anytime, anyplace, I’m here.” Trip looked old then, old beyond his years. There was a sadness and almost pity in his face. As if Jon had made a naïve request. “I mean it.” Trip averted his eyes and Jon couldn’t stand it. “Look at me.” His friend obeyed, his usually light eyes still shadowed, doubtful. _Time to step up, Jon._ “I need you.” The confusion on his friend’s face spurred him on. “You are my best friend. I trust you to have my back and let me know when I’m being an ass.” That broke the sad look and Trip looked shy when he ventured tentatively.

“Well, I think the Sub-Commander does a pretty good job of that.” Huffing a laugh, Jon admitted.

“True, very true. But you’re the only one here who knows me, really knows me.” Trip didn’t argue, instead he looked thoughtful. Encouraged, Jon went on. “I know we don’t do the whole heart to heart thing very often. But maybe we should. Because I obviously haven’t been a very good friend if you don’t know how much you mean to me.” Trip looked up at him then, obviously surprised. Jon forced himself to relax, to try and show his feeling as plainly on his face as possible. “I’m always going to be there for you, like you are for me.” Blinking rapidly, Trip looked away. Jon could tell that his message was getting through. Now the hardest bit. “Yes, you probably should have thought more about the possible consequences, but I’m not sure even T’Pol could have foreseen…that.” He couldn’t pin point an exact indicator, but he could tell that Trip had internalised what he’d been saying. His friend sighed heavily.

“It’s never simple, is it?” Jon laughed bitterly.

“No, it’s not.” He watched Porthos eyeing them both sleepily for a moment. “If this mission has taught me anything, it’s that the universe is a complex mess of unpredictable consequences.” Taking a deep breath, he dug into his own pain. “I had no idea that freeing 89 Suliban prisoners from a work camp would cause you to almost die of heat stroke on Toroth.” Trip looked like he was about to speak, but Jon went on doggedly. “I ask myself: would I do it all again if I knew that it would put you at risk like that? How would I have felt if you’d died? How could I have lived with that decision then?”

“Jon-” But now he’d started, he had to finish. Words poured out, faster and faster as his breath sped up, Trip looking increasingly worried, but mute, beside him.

“For God’s sake, the amount of times I had to wake you up, stop you slipping into a coma. We were down there for hours, you kept on slipping in and out. When you started to hallucinate-” he choked, then forced himself on, “when you didn’t even recognise me I thought, ‘this is it, this is my punishment’.” He was dimly aware that his friend was shifting closer. “If T’Pol and Malcolm hadn’t come when they had, you would have died in that desert. You would have died in my arms and I wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing but watch.” A warm hand on his broke him from his dark stream of thought. He looked up and saw his friend, saw Trip, familiar and warm.

 “You really trust my judgement?” He didn’t hesitate in his answer.

“Yes.” Trip gave him a quick smile and it was like dawn breaking. Growing serious, Trip squeezed his hand and said with quiet conviction.

“You made the right choice with the information you had at the time. We’re not all time travellers, all we can see is the past and learn from it.” After he finished speaking, Trip leaned back a bit, blinking as if making a realisation. Jon waited, still calming his breathing. He was rewarded when Trip said softly, hopefully. “I guess, maybe that’s true for both of us?”

“Definitely.” And then they were smiling at each other.

Trip stayed for another hour, the conversation moving to safer topics. They caught each other up on crew and Starfleet command gossip and other things. But they were both emotionally drained and eventually their yawns grew too frequent to continue to ignore. Jon stood and walked Trip to the door.

“You going be able to sleep okay?” Trip sighed.

“It’s gonna be a work in progress for a while, I think.” He hesitated, then offered almost shyly. “T’Pol offered to teach me to meditate.” Surprised, but then pleased, Jon asked.

“You gonna take her up on it?”

“Yeah.” He smiled gently, then grinned. “I’ll let you know how it goes, if I don’t end up driving her to distraction.”

“Yes, you might have to sit still for more than five minutes.” He was rewarded with another laugh, small but heart-warming nonetheless. Jon waved Trip out then went to rub Porthos where he lay, looking up at him inquisitively. His master just shook his head.

Whatever else happened, they were still friends. And he was determined to be a better friend from now on.

\----

A few days later, a strange assortment of crewmembers gathered in the mess hall after the evening meal. Ensign Carter, who was representing herself, Lieutenant Hess and Crewman Rostov, Doctor Phlox, Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Sato, who said she’d update a worried Davidson, and Ensign Mayweather. Through their different accounts of the previous days’ events, they put together the pieces and agreed they were happy with the progress they’d seen in their superior officers since. No one, except Phlox, knew the source of the issue in the first place, but they all decided that it wasn’t their business to know. They would keep on monitoring the situation and offer their support where they could.

Balance had been restored in the Enterprise family and the whole ship felt it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> :D


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